Outgrowing the Life
by fenderfreak81
Summary: Dave is growing tired and is thinking of what it might be like to live a normal life. The only thing bringing him back to his costume is Mindy. Mindy doesn't know what she wants from life, other than Dave. See what their lives are like 6 years after the movie, where they might end up going as adults, and learn how it is they got to where they are now. M for violence/adult themes
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **First fanfic, saw there wasn't much Kick Ass stuff out there and think Dave and Mindy are really great characters. Just figured I'd add to what's out there for people who like to read about these characters, since crap like Twilight has something like 10,000 more stories out than our beloved characters do… Everything you need to know should be in the description or come out in the story. Dave is 22 and Mindy almost 18. It's a 4 year age gap based on how old the actress was when Kick Ass came out and how old I imagine Dave was supposed to be at the time. I also read that 4 years is the alleged age gap in the new movie. Be kind.

Also, I don't own any of the characters or the overall world. That's pretty obvious I think.

**Chapter 1**

The cold wind whipping up onto the club's rooftop is enough to send shivers down my spine, but I barely notice. My focus is too intense, set on the drying red film of plasma that is starting to harden into an ominous sheen along the sides of my batons. Digging the black sticks into the soft rubber of the roof for support, my body crouches down to rest against the wall housing the stairwell that dips down into the night club below. I am tired, not just physically but emotionally. Doing this night after night for over six years, while once exciting and fulfilling, is starting to wear on me.

"Hey" her voice comes echoing up the stairwell as she approaches. Her footsteps halt at the entrance when she sees the pile of bodies sitting before her. They have long been dead. I know I should've come back downstairs to help her finish up inside, but I knew she'd have it covered, and I'm just so tired. "I see you caught up to them" she laughs, kicking one of the bodies out of her way before tossing a bag of cash to me. I barely have time to right myself and catch it before it hits me in the face.

"Yea" I answer distractedly as I sling the bag over my shoulder and get up to follow her. My halfhearted response earns me a concerned look that is accentuated by the black strip of cloth ghosting over her eyes in a veiled attempt at concealing her true identity. Her eyes bunch, causing the fabric to raise and wrinkle in a look that most would deem adorable if it weren't filled with so much worry… and caked in the blood of dozens. That expression is becoming more frequent, she can tell something is wrong with me.

Stepping over the pile of beaten bodies, one man's head pounded into such a fine mush that it resembles a thick soup rather than the skull and brain matter it really is, she moves to my side and grabs my arm tightly as I start to move away, spinning me so that I face her. "What's up your ass?" she asks, forgoing any type of teasing or name calling which is a sure sign she's really worried.

"Nothing, I'm good" I assure her, turning myself away before she can see too much. "Everything taken care of?"

"Yea…" she answers hesitantly, "nothing left but corpses. All the money is in there "she gestures to the bag over my shoulder. "Fucking pussies didn't even see us coming" she smiles. "You ready?"

"Of course" I try to smile back, but it comes out more as a grimace. I only hope that my mask conceals how forced the expression really is. It doesn't.

"Seriously, what's up Dave?" she pries once more as we climb down the fire escape and start to walk the five blocks over where she parked the now purple and green former Mist Mobile.

Mindy had gotten it redone when she got her license a year and a half ago, claiming she was tired of walking everywhere and that the car would be more convenient. I knew she just had an itch to drive fast and make me dizzy though. Marcus begrudgingly agreed to the restore, as long as Mindy bought a more practical car for when she wasn't in costume. She hates that Prius, though, and finds a reason to drive the Mustang whenever she can. I must admit, it was poetic when she used the garish thing to pop Chris D'Amico's head like a pimple against the pavement. It was hilarious at the time, we both broke into fits of laughter when he was finally done with, but now that I think about it that moment meant much more than I realized back then. It wasn't just the culmination of our vendettas. It was also the beginning of the end for me. With Chris out of the way and Justice Forever avenged, all of this started to have less… _meaning_ than it did before.

"Nothing Mindy, just tired is all."

"Uh huh" she says disbelievingly, the subtle beep of the car's alarm disarming as we pile into the vehicle. We've done this song and dance for the last six months and I can tell it's getting old for her. I know I can't let her do this alone, but I can't bring myself to want to do it either. It's a catch 22. When I was done with my applications I really did try putting myself back into this, for her, but I just can't seem to do it. Something feels empty inside of me. I don't know what is missing, but it's something.

"You're acting like a douche lately and I want to know why!" she finally shouts when the first five minutes of our drive is made in silence, my eyes focused out the window the entire time.

Looking over at her, I can't summon the energy to seem surprised by her outburst but I know she deserves some sort of answer. With a sigh, I shake my head and respond "I'm sorry Mindy. I've just got a lot on my plate right now with graduation coming up and shit. I'll be good, don't worry."

"It's more than that" she insists. "I have graduation coming up too, you know? Not to mention the fact Marcus fucking forced me to apply to colleges and is pushing my ass to take that NYU scholarship. So nut up and be a man!" she insists, though the upturn of her lip suggests she is more teasing me than really chastising.

"Maybe you should do it" I say halfheartedly.

"Do what?"

"The NYU scholarship, maybe you should take it."

"Why the fuck would I do that?!" she yells into the small cabin.

"Because it's a good school and you're a brilliant girl. It's a great opportunity."

"Maybe I don't want it" she says belligerently, her eyes now focused completely on the road.

I stare at her closely after that, her lips turned down and puckered in an insolent frown. She really has grown into a beautiful woman. If a part of me could forget the little girl she was when I met her, I might even say she's the most breathtaking human being I've ever met. Her long blonde hair is poking out from beneath her tiny purple wig and her bold blue eyes are accentuated by the strip of black cloth surrounding them. Her body has filled out to that of an adult as well, though her height has hardly increased since I met her. She's not much taller than 5 feet and I doubt she's more than 105 lbs. of pure muscle, but her chest and other features are definitely adult.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asks after I've apparently been looking for too long.

"Just… thinking."

"About?"

"You've grown up. You're a woman now. You're beautiful, smart, strong, and a good person. I just wish you'd figure that out for yourself and maybe try to have some semblance of normalcy."

Her lips stop puckering and turn up into a wide smile at my words. I can tell I've gotten myself out of the doghouse with my compliments, even though I didn't actually refute my earlier statement. NYU is part of that normalcy I wish for her.

"Really?" she grins.

"Really" I laugh tiredly as I lay my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. "Why don't you have a boyfriend anyways? I bet you could get any guy you want" I state.

I can hear her smile fall in the tone of her voice as she mutters lowly "Not any guy", but I'm not sure I was meant to hear it. Also not sure what she means by it. Any guy would be lucky to have her; I just haven't heard her express interest in anyone.

Before I can ask her what she means, the car pulls into the garage of our old abandoned auto shop in Yonkers and the large metal door closes behind us. Lights flicker on once the door is settled shut, illuminating the safe house we bought and have been renovating for the last three years. The walls were once crumbling plaster sick with mold but Marcus, my dad, and I replaced it all with cinder blocks and covered those with reinforced steel. It's smaller inside now, with those renovations, but safer too. I painted over the metal in purple per Mindy's request. The lift of the garage is now in working order and Marcus is slowly showing me how to make repairs to the old Mist Mobile, which Mindy now calls "The Hit Ass Wagon". I told her it makes it sound like a pimp's car, but she doesn't seem to care.

Opening the door to what used to be the garage's waiting room/lobby, we flick on several lamps that cast a warm glow on what is practically a comfortable panic room at this point. The windows and walls are covered in bullet proof metal and the windows are reinforced with heavy bars just in case. From the outside the shop still looks rundown, the plywood boards over the windows secured in place as a veneer over our reinforcements to preserve the façade of disrepair, but inside it's really coming together.

The floors are a clean green tile leading into plush purple carpet where the king sized bed, a flat screen on a simple stand, dressers, and a mini fridge sits. Off to the left, the old office and desk near the garage has been demolished and repurposed into the old bathroom to make room for a full bath with shower and a long sterile table for medical emergencies. A small stove, microwave, and bucket sinks round out the room in the back, seemingly out of place but there in case we need to stay here overnight and cook.

Tossing the keys to the "Ass Wagon" onto a nearby table, Mindy rips the sash from her eyes and the wig from her head before tossing them with the keys and turning on me with a disapproving glare. "Something is up with you that you aren't telling me" she accuses while starting to strip out of her outfit.

I avert my eyes when it becomes clear she's wearing nothing but a set of purple lacy underwear underneath her costume. She always does this too, ever since I can remember. It's like she enjoys making me squirm.

"Chill out Mindy" I say with my back to her and eyes on the floor so I won't be tempted to watch her reflection in the glass that separates the garage from the living area. "I told you, I just have a lot on my plate."

"And I told you" she says, her voice sounding even more irritated now that I turned my back on her, "that I do too. That's no excuse to be an asshole to me!" There's more ruffling from behind me and I try to think of something to say, but the sound of the shower in the other room turning on and the curtain being yanked open then shut tells me she's gotten tired of waiting for my response.

The bathroom door is open as per usual, even though I beg her to close it when she showers, and I go to lean on the wall just outside the door. "I'm sorry Mindy!" I shout into the room over the sound of water hitting skin. "I don't mean to be an asshole to you. You know I care about you more than anything, I just don't know what's wrong with me lately!" I say honestly.

She's quiet for a long tick, making me question whether she even heard me. I know she has a temper, and a tendency to ignore me when I've upset her past a certain point. Hell, she's spent countless days and weeks training with me without saying a word just to prove a point when I've seemingly done something wrong, just waiting for an apology. She's like a fucking Buddhist monk when she takes that vow of silence… You know, aside from all the killing.

My worries are slightly dissuaded when she does respond finally. "I care about you too Dave" she says as the squeaking of the knobs turning sounds out and the water trickles to a stop. "That's why I wish you'd tell me what's going on with you lately." Her wet feet hit the tile floor and I can hear the rustling of a towel.

When she steps out from the bathroom, my eyes lift and widen before my hand covers them quickly and I exclaim "Jesus Mindy! Cover up!"

Instead of wrapping the towel around her for modesty's sake, she's walking around bare assed while toweling her hair like she has not a worry in the world. It's another common practice for her, but not one I'm ever prepared for. "Don't be a pussy Dave" she laughs, "how many times are you going to react like that when you should know by now that I like to air dry?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to cover up before you do it?" I reply.

"I don't know" I can hear the mocking tone of consideration in her voice, "let's wait and see."

"You're a bitch" I laugh and squeeze past her in a vain effort not to touch or see naked skin as I move into the bathroom to take my own shower.

"You're a cunt!" I hear her yell through the door as I close and lock it.

The warm water is a welcome feeling, soothing some of the bruises I got tonight as well as washing away some of the stress I've let accumulate as of late. I'm starting to let my head get away from me and it's affecting our work. Tonight I should've had all nine of my guys taken care of without incident. But I was a second late in blocking one of their blows and was rewarded with a brick slamming between my shoulder blades. The dull ache will hurt worse in the morning, I know it.

What bothers me more than letting some cracked out dickhead get the drop on me is that I know I'm putting more than myself at risk by getting so wrapped up in my head. I could live with it if it was just my life at risk, but Mindy is too valuable. I could never forgive myself if something were to happen to her. So I need to, as Mindy put it, nut up and do something about it. Columbia needs to know whether I'll take the scholarship by next month, so I don't have much choice other than to make a decision sometime soon.

The sound of the bathroom door's lock being picked is audible and I roll my eyes when the thing opens and I hear her take up residence on the closed toilet seat. I wonder if she is going to just sit there, when she actually says something. Her voice is surprisingly timid when it finally comes out. I'm not used to hearing her sound so… scared?

"Please, tell me what's wrong?"

My hands post against the wall as the water starts to run from hot to just warm. It'll be time to get out soon, unless I want a cold shower, and my towel is behind her head. That means I need to tell her something that might appease her enough for her to leave, or expose myself getting out for a towel.

"I got into law school" I finally say.

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't leave either. I wait, hoping to God she'll do something before the water turns cold… She doesn't. The water turns icy and she's still quiet as my little friend starts to shrivel. Eventually I can't take any more frigid water and I shut it off before trying to wrap my lower half in the shower curtain and bend out in an awkward attempt at reaching the cabinet to grab a towel.

Noticing my struggle, all playfulness gone from her features, she reaches back for a towel and tosses it to me. Her eyes are vacant, hollow. She doesn't move from her seat even after I get what I'm reaching for.

Stepping back behind the curtain, I quickly dry my puffy jewfro and sop up the water trickling down my body before wrapping myself in the yellow cotton. Pulling back the curtain, she still looks lost and broken. Tying the towel off at my waste, I bend down to her and tilt her chin so she'll look at me. "What's wrong Mindy?"

Her blue eyes cloud at the question and she shakes off my hand, standing and stalking off into the living room. I follow her, just now noticing that she's thankfully put on some shorts and a t-shirt and isn't walking around naked anymore. I reach into one of the dresser drawers and slip my boxers on under the towel before tossing it in the corner and putting on the rest of my clothes. Perhaps this is the start of the silent treatment I expected earlier?

"Why?" Perhaps not…

"Why what?"

"Why everything!" she shouts. "Why apply?! Why not tell me you applied?! Why not tell me you got in?! I thought we were best friends!" In a flash she's standing in front of me and socking me in the gut. I let her.

"Oof" I gasp as she gets me in the kidneys and I barrel over. She knees me in the face when my head drops and brings the ball of her palm down on the back of my head hard. I think I prefer the silent treatment.

"Fuck Mindy!" I shout when the onslaught seems to be over. "Violent much?!"

"I thought that was one of the things you liked about me?" she asks sarcastically.

"Yea, I mean it is, but not like this. Jesus Mini-"

"Don't call me that" she interrupts with a hostile warning and an imposing finger pointed in my direction. Mini is a name she usually likes, something between the two of us. That really shows how far I've pissed her off this time, if that's her reaction. "You don't get to call me that right now! And besides, I held back" she mutters while turning her back to me and grabbing the keys to her "normal" car. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"Don't you want to talk about this?" I ask, not exactly wanting to broach the topic any more than I did before it was brought up but viewing that as a lesser evil than how things seem to be going now.

"Nope" she says, popping the p-sound off of her lips exaggeratedly and still not looking at me.

"Fine" I mutter, pulling my boots on as she does the same before following her through the basement where an old fallout shelter empties out through a crudely blown out hatch that leads into the sewers. It's important no one sees us coming and going from this place, she always says. When we are in our street clothes, we all always enter through this smelly secret route. I usually complain a little, but Dad and Marcus are much less tolerant of the experience and frequently let their complaints be known. The storage unit where she keeps her Prius is only six blocks away, though, so the worst part of the trip is still the silence. We aren't usually down there long enough for the smell or surroundings to really get to me like it does the older men.

It's another 30 minute trip from the storage unit where her car is kept to my apartment in Manhattan, one that isn't usually as awkward as it is tonight. When Todd and I got into Fordham LC, and Marty into NYU, we all decided to rent a place in the city. When it got to be just me and Marty the rent got pretty high, but the cash Mindy and I have liberated from various shitheads on our patrols makes the nice apartment more than affordable. The location is convenient for classes, even if I have to take the train out to visit my dad, and there's a lot more to do in the city; so overall I like it. I used to miss spending all my time with Mindy during my freshman year, since she couldn't easily make it out and our work was limited to weekends as I got acclimated to college, but once we started working on the safe house together and she got old enough that Marcus would let her ride the train alone (I know, Hit Girl can't ride a train alone. Believe me we tried) we eventually found a comfortable routine. Then when she finally got her car, and I got a grip on my classes well enough to try the occasional weeknight patrol, my place just gradually became her home away from home and there wasn't much missing to be had. Tonight, though, I'm guessing she'll be heading back to Queens instead of crashing in my bed, and I'll be sleeping on my old queen sized mattress instead of on the couch. That is, if her silent treatment is any indication.

When the car finally stops in front of my building, she hasn't looked in my direction the whole time and still isn't. "Please talk to me Mindy" I plead.

She shakes her head, her blonde locks falling down the side of her face to obscure my view of her eyes. "I'm not sure I have anything to say to you right now Dave."

"I just won't go" I offer.

"Not the point Dave" she says simply, not embellishing on that at all.

"Then what is it?"

"I just need to think on this… Please, get out of the car."

She sounds near tears, which is very unsettling considering who I'm talking to, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab the satchel of cash from tonight (it was my turn to keep the loot) with a nod. "Okay, but we need to talk about this when you're ready" I say as I step out onto the sidewalk.

Mindy doesn't look my way or answer. She just waits for me to close the door and then peels away from the curb as quickly as a hybrid can. In a flash, the car is out of sight and I can hear Ernie my doorman laughing behind me.

"Girl troubles?" he asks.

"I don't really know" I answer honestly. The only thing I do know is… that could've gone better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes: **

First, I want to thank people for their favorites and comments. They are much appreciated. Sorry about the long break, but I've got the first 10 chapters of this written up and have for a while. I've just been revising so far and busy with work, hence the long wait if anyone was actually waiting. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I rushed my first chapter a bit, so I may be slow posting. Then again, I may not. Who knows?

Second, I didn't mention it in the first chapter but the POV will alternate between our two main characters each chapter. Dave odds, Mindy evens.

Third, I made a few changes to Chapter 1 based on concerns I had going in that were confirmed by some helpful followers. Not huge or major changes so you don't necessarily need to go back and read it, but they are there in case you want to get caught up on some detail changes and a few more allusions to things that will be hashed out in greater detail later.

Fourth, the characters in my story are what I deem to be logical interpretations of where these two would be at these ages after years of battle. There are many ways to interpret them, but this is how I see it. Hopefully people can see where I am coming from and enjoy.

Finally, I don't own Kick-Ass or the characters. I also don't own New York City… yet.

**Chapter 2**

I could literally feel my blood boil when he told me. Those five words, "I got into law school", hit me harder than they should have. I can't help it though. The fucking idiot is ditching me! I can feel it in every fiber of my being. The way he's acted lately, the way he doesn't ever seem excited to go on patrol, and just the way he said the words "I got into law school"? That said it all. He's leaving me, us, everything we've created. It makes me so… so… God, I don't know what! Emotional I guess is the word for it…

Mind you, I don't generally consider myself an emotional person. I mean sure I'm angry, but that type of thing doesn't really count. Everyone gets angry. You tell me who _doesn't_ get pissed and feel the need to flip off crossing guards, curse out those pricks at the grocery store who hand out samples, or slap every single person who says the word "y'all" so hard their tongues don't work anymore? It's just human nature, isn't it? To want to skin Miley Cyrus alive or burn down the local Starbucks when those fucking coffee jockeys look at me weird for ordering a black coffee, like _I'm_ the freak for not ordering some ridiculously complicated God damned drink? Those thoughts are normal, right?

But I'm getting away from myself. The point is that aside from anger, which everyone feels, I like to think I'm pretty damned good at controlling my emotions. That is, until Dave Lizewski enters the equation. Dave just seems to possess some stupid ass quality that, once I turned about 14, has the innate ability to turn me into some sick little teenybopper piece of pussy that the old Hit Girl would want to turn into a human scarecrow… the douche.

No one besides my daddy has ever wormed their way under my defenses like Dave has. Usually I never care about things like how I look, love, happiness, friendship, and all that crap. Those are things I can't afford to worry about and really have never had any interest in. But fucking Dave Lizewski makes me feel all of those things and worry about them too. So I hate him for that. And if that wasn't enough, you want to know the REALLY aggravating thing about him? It's that I don't actually hate him! I just can't. I love him too much to hate him… which really makes me hate him. Ya know?

All of that is why I'm so pissed right now. The fucker wormed his way into my heart and seems happy to walk away when he gets bored! He ignores every attempt I make to show him we could be more, that he's it for me and I should be it for him, and just stares at me like I'm his fucking kid sister! Then, to top it all off, he goes and pulls this? Law school? Who the fuck wants to go to law school? After what we've seen and done? He knows just as well as I do that the system, _the_ _law_, doesn't work! It's why Todd is gone, why my daddy isn't here working with us, and why Kick Ass and Hit Girl are necessary! He knows that and yet he wants to abandon me, Hit Girl and Kick Ass, to be a part of that same broken system? I feel so fucking betrayed… Which pisses me off!

Yanking the front door open to my house, I barrel into the kitchen on a mission. I need some fucking tea. Tea always calms me down. Dave used to give it to me when I started having panic attacks after my daddy died, since I couldn't even look at hot chocolate the same way ever again, and after that the damned bitter drink has always seemed to calm my nerves for some reason. So now, in a time like this, I need some fucking tea... But wouldn't you know it? After I throw open cupboard after cupboard, and even crawl into one just to make sure, I still can't find any damned tea! There's soda, coffee, cocoa mix, beer, and even fucking Tang! But no tea?! Who drinks Tang for Christ's sake!?

I let out an angry scream as I slam the last cupboard shut and I can feel a new wave of tears coming on. Angry tears mind you. I don't cry sad tears, only angry ones!

"Problem?"

His voice startles me. I hadn't noticed him sitting there. When I turn, Marcus is holding a magazine in his hands and looking up at me through the top of his eyes while his head stays pointed down at the pictures of old farts in plaid pants and ugly sweaters. Since when does he golf?

"No" I huff, pushing up off the counter and holding back my tears successfully for the first time since I dropped Dave off nearly an hour ago. It's a good thing I drove in circles for 30 minutes, or I don't know if I'd be able to make it. Hopefully Marcus won't comment on my red puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. "I just want some God damned tea and there isn't any!"

"Doubt you need the caffeine" he smirks while shaking his head. When I pull the chair out across from his seat and join him at the kitchen table in a huff, he turns his eyes back to the magazine without another word. He knows better than to mess with me when I'm in a mood. I never want to talk in times like this.

Except right now, I do. I need something to take my mind off of this vice that seems to be wrenching at my insides. "Since when do you golf?" I ask, not really caring but seeing it as a harmless topic far away from what's making it hard for me to breathe right now.

"I don't" he doesn't look up, "but Jimmy mentioned taking me to Forrest Park next weekend. Not sure why, he should know my people don't golf. It's a white guy thing."

"Tiger Woods is black" I point out, again not really interested in the conversation but needing the distraction. My hands start picking at a piece of linoleum that hangs loose from the side of the table. It's been there forever and I can never help myself.

"He's more Asian than black" Marcus reasons. "But I'll go anyways. It was nice of Dave's dad to offer."

The mention of the name "Dave" makes me tense, but if Marcus notices he makes no mention of it. "When did you guys get so close?"

"We're friends" he defends in a slightly high register, as if I've insulted him by me insinuating he could never have such a thing as a friend. "Guys tend to bond when they spend half their time trying to figure out how to keep their kids from going out and getting themselves killed. Besides, we spent so much time getting that garage of yours in order that we figured it'd be nice to hang out when we weren't being confronted with the very real possibility of you kids getting shot to hell. Jimmy's a nice guy. He knows what it's like to worry about his kid not making it home."

"You know you loved working on that place" I defend, my hands still busy on the loose piece of plastic and his eyes still on his magazine.

"No" he says with hard emphasis, raising his eyes to glance at me again, "I like keeping you safe. If Jimmy and my skills can help you get that place in order, then so be it. I'll chalk up those years fixing Jeeps in Desert Storm as not being a complete waste like I always thought. Either way, Jimmy and I just knew you kids wouldn't ever listen when we said stop, that much was clear by the time you were 13, so helping seemed like the next best thing."

"Whatever." My hands leave the plastic and I start looking around for something else to distract me. This isn't working. I still hurt like I've been gutted… I mean, I'm not hurt. I'm angry. Angry!

Marcus notices my despair, finally, and puts his magazine aside to devote his full attention to me. "So why aren't you crashing with Dave? You always do on the weekends."

"He's got better things to do than hang out with me, I'm sure." I can taste how bitter those words sound. I answered him too soon, so my response was emotional. The smart play would've been to take a breath and think of a lie. Answering truthfully will lead to more questions.

"So you guys had a fight?"

See? More questions.

"I wouldn't call it a fight. For it to be a fight there has to be yelling, or an exchange. What we had was hard to define."

"Try."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"And I don't want to play golf" he laughs, pointing to his magazine, "but we all do things we don't want to do. Now, tell me. Do I need to go rough him up? Did he get fresh?"

The words "I wish" almost come out involuntarily, which would be very bad. Instead, I swallow them and try deflecting. "Who says 'get fresh' anymore?"

"I do. But that isn't the point. If he didn't get fresh, what did he do?"

"It's more what he didn't do" I admit. I don't disclose that the list of things Dave isn't doing that I want him to do is far longer than the root of our little fight here. Exactly two people have managed to pry my actual feelings out of me, while two others were present for one of those slip ups. Marcus is definitely not one of the four who are in the know.

"Stop talking in circles. What _didn't_ he do?"

My legs feel like they need to run. I'm antsy and sitting still talking to Marcus about this feels just plain wrong. I shouldn't talk about it, or feel any of it. I should go train, beat up some bad guys, and I should remind myself of how my daddy taught me to never rely on other people. That's what I _should_ do, but it isn't what I want to do.

"Did you know he got into law school?" I finally ask it. If Marcus is so close with Jimmy Lizewski, maybe he knew. Maybe Dave isn't the only one keeping secrets?

"He did?" Marcus leans back and claps his hands together loudly. He's grinning like he's got yellow feathers sticking out of his mouth. "That's great! I didn't know he'd heard yet."

"You knew he applied?!" It comes out as a shriek. I don't shriek.

"Yea" his smile falters, "you didn't? It's all Jimmy can talk about. I figured you were the first to know."

"I should've been" I grumble to myself.

"So he didn't tell you" he wonders thoughtfully. "I guess that could make me mad if I were you."

"Ya think?!"

"Yea, but I mean it isn't that big of a deal. Maybe he was afraid of not getting in and he wanted to wait for it to be a sure thing? Guys get embarrassed easy around pretty girls. Maybe he thought you'd see him as a loser if he didn't get in?"

That makes sense, a lot of sense actually. Too bad he's missing a few _very_ important points. "He doesn't think I'm pretty Marcus, I'm just a stupid little sister to him."

Marcus' eyes relax into a look I recognize well. He thinks he's figured something out. Over half the time he's right when he gets that look, but it never means good things for me. Besides, I'd never tell him he's right even when he is. It's the principle of the matter.

"Ahhh" he says in a prolonged fashion that makes me just want to punch the knowing smile off his face. "That's the real problem, isn't it? You're afraid that if Dave stops being Kick Ass he won't want to be around you. That the only shot you have to keep him, to keep him away from other girls, is if you guys keep doing this."

"No!" I insist, though I know that his assessment is at least partially on point. "I just think he should've told me."

"You're right, he should have." I smile at the affirmation, only to let it falter with the word "But" coming from his lips soon after, "you wouldn't be this upset if it were something that small. You've never been angry with the kid, not in the six years you two have been attached at the hip."

"I have too!" I get angry with him a lot. Mostly when he ignores me or when he used to spend so much time with Katie. But I have gotten mad at him before. Dave has the scars to prove it.

"No" he insists with a shake of his head, "you've been jealous, you've been hurt, you've been lovesick, and you've been mean. But I have never actually seen you angry with the kid. Not once. You look at him like he craps rainbows and burps unicorns."

"I do not." I turn my eyes away from his annoyingly smug face that tells me my denial was less than convincing.

"You do," he laughs, "which is why my advice is that you talk to the kid and see what he was thinking. There's no sense in tossing away such a good relationship all because of a simple misunderstanding or because he was embarrassed to tell you if he failed at something."

"He lied to me."

"He didn't lie exactly. Dave just left out a detail of his life until he knew more about it. He also told you eventually. That says something, right?"

"I guess." My mind tussles with his advice while he watches me take it all in. On the one hand, I know that I love Dave and I don't want to lose him. Pushing him away is just as good a way to lose him as if he goes off to law school and leaves me behind, isn't it? Then again, it'd be easier if I pulled the plug myself. That'd give me some power over it all. He doesn't want me, not like I want him. Maybe it'd be easier for everyone if I just backed off now and let him have Katie or whatever bimbo he wants? I could go on, maybe get over him eventually. "I was actually thinking maybe we have outgrown each other. Maybe it's time we go our separate ways?"

"That's a mistake" Marcus answers without a second's hesitation.

"Says the guy who barred me from seeing him for almost a year?!"

"And a fat lot of good it did me. Don't think I don't know you snuck out to patrol and see him for at least 10 months of that moratorium" he says while wagging his finger at me. "Besides" he drops his finger and relaxes back into his seat, "I've grown to like Dave. He's a good, honest, and thoughtful kid. He really cares about you too. I'd hate to see you piss that away because of something this stupid."

"You make so little sense sometimes" I say with a shake of my head. "I figured you'd be happy if I lost my partner in crime! It might keep me off the streets… occasionally."

"And it'd put you in more danger when you do go out because you'll be alone" he points out, "but that's not why I say that. It's a mistake because you're considering quitting on something you really want, and quitting isn't you. I like Dave, a lot. He's the only guy good enough for my little girl. I was leery at first, I'll admit, but the way he's kept his hands to himself for the past six years has disproved all my doubts. On top of that, I've known he's what you wanted since you brought the kid over for the first time when you were 13. The way you looked at him then, the way you still do? That doesn't come around often. Trust me."

"It's better than him tossing me aside and me having no say! It's better than knowing he only sees me as a sister! Being numb is better than hurting all the time! I know! I miss those times when I didn't have to feel like this! When all that mattered was the job and getting new toys to work with. When I could still ignore my feelings and keep people like Dave at an arm's length" I say, losing steam and energy with those last words.

This conversation has gotten out of hand. We've gone from talking about golf to my undying love for my best friend. Something I didn't even know Marcus knew about. Who else knows? Could Dave know and he's just been trying to let me down easy all these years? Is that what this law school stuff is really about? Letting me down easy? The thought makes me sick.

"Who says you'll get hurt?"

"Oh come on! I'm not like the girls he dates! They're all tall, leggy, big titted brunettes. He doesn't want me, I know that. It hurts already. It'll just get worse if I stick around."

"You're describing one girl" he groans. "Unless I'm missing someone, Katie has been his entire dating pool. One does not make a type. You don't know anything" Marcus sighs, clearly losing his patience and leaning towards giving up for the night.

"I know I'd be better off without someone who'd keep a secret like this from me. Better off without someone who wants to leave me and everything we know behind. I know that loving him has brought me only pain since I figured it out when I was fucking 14 years old!"

"That's how you know it is real Mindy! The fun stuff? That's easy to pick up on. It's why so many people get caught up in these whirlwind relationships and end up getting divorced. They love the _fun_ parts, the pleasure. You know what you have with Dave is real because you hurt without him and you've stayed with him despite all the grief it can bring. As much as it hurts to have him just as a friend, it would hurt you more to not have him at all. The pain makes it real."

"That's stupid."

"Fine, think whatever you want" he says irritably, getting up from the table. "It's good advice, but I don't expect you to take it. I know you too well sweetie. Just remember who warned you when this all blows up in your face. Believe me, I know that of which I speak."

With that, he makes his way upstairs. I listen as the floorboards creak through his nightly routine and then his bedroom door shuts with a tired click. I bet he's out within a couple of minutes.

Marcus' words really do hit me, but I don't think they hit me hard enough. I know what he says is true. I've never actually come out and told Dave how I feel and it's a quitter's way out to never do so, but it's just too risky. I'm woman enough to admit that a group of gun toting mobsters scare me a whole lot less than Dave does right now. I just don't have the strength to face him and have him reject me fully, so I have to protect myself.

Once I'm out of my head, I notice my phone buzz against my thigh and wonder how many times that has happened without my noticing. Pulling it from my pocket, I see that the magic number is 26. 24 messages are from Dave. All of them are along the lines of asking if I'm alright and apologizing profusely. I delete them. With that done, I check the other two that aren't from Dave and find that the first one is from Darcy.

Darcy is a girl I befriended my second year in regular school, the year that Marcus had banned me from seeing Dave and I felt compelled to try abiding by his rule for at least a couple of months. All I really wanted out of it was to have someone to sit with at lunch so people would stop staring at the poor girl who all of a sudden stopped sitting with the older geeky guys and was now all alone. Despite my shallow intentions, though, Darcy and her friends Amanda and Courtney have actually become real friend to varying degrees. Amanda is ditsy but sweet and honest while Courtney is kind of a bitch, but Darcy is actually really cool. She's someone who fits in so well with my guys that she often joins us to make a foursome so Marty doesn't feel like a third wheel at the comic shop or when we go to movies. Her text reads…

**Darcy: **Hey, I know it's a Dave night but dorm is boring and I'm outta _Gilmore Girls_. Amanda's bro got me some booze b4 they left town. Want some?

My fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure what exactly to type. I could use a distraction and Marcus proved to be anything but… That said, there is the problem of Darcy being able to wrangle just about anything out of me that she wants, despite my protests. If I get drunk, and I am definitely not an experienced drinker, I might spill something about being Hit Girl and cause some real problems. Despite that risk, I find myself typing…

**Me: **Sure, K if I head over?

**Darcy: **Totes, my RA 2nite is cool. She's bout to graduate so she won't say anything. She don't care.

**Me: **K

That done, I rush upstairs to get a change of clothes and to rinse my face so that it won't be too apparent I've been crying. I'm about out the door when I remember I had another message. Pulling my phone out as I get into my dorky Prius, I see Marty's pudgy face on the screen behind his words.

**Marty:** What happened?

**Me:** Nothing

**Marty: **Bullshit! Dave's acting like someone ran over his dick with a spike covered steamroller

**Me:** As opposed to?

**Marty: **Lol! It's worse than usual. What happened?

**Me: **Just tell your friend he isn't invited to my birthday dinner anymore

There, that should get my work started. Disinviting to a birthday party seems like step one to disentangling our lives. Right?

**Marty: **He's your friend 2, and seriously?!

**Me: **Yes

**Marty: **Cold… I'm still invited right?

I can't help but laugh at the message. I can hear his goofy and eager tone through the text.

**Me: ** Of course

**Marty: **Will there be cake?

**Me: **Probably, it's not my thing

**Marty: **Tell Marcus to have cake, it's important! I'm assuming Darcy will be there, right? Has she said anything about me or my prosthetic?

**Me:** I don't think she minds the arm Marty, but I'll ask. I gotta go. TTYL

**Marty: **Cool. Hey, make sure you tell her I'm a soldier who lost his arm in the Iraqi War saving orphans…

I laugh again as I type out my short reply. I appreciate him. He's made me laugh several times when I thought I couldn't. Tonight is just another example.

**Me:** You're 2 young to be in Iraq

**Marty:** Afghanistan then

**Me:** Goodnight Marty

Alcohol, in moderation, has its purposes I suppose. Like tonight, I'm not drunk or even tipsy but I've had enough that I can relax and forget my problems. Thanks to this bottle of green stuff that's "only 10 proof" as Darcy put it, Dave is the last thing on my mind… Except for when I just said Dave is the last thing on my mind… and when I just said that.

"So what's new with Mindy? You gonna join me here at this fancy school?" I'm not drunk yet, and neither is Darcy, but she is getting closer while I've about reached my limit. Despite her escalating intake, however, her words come out clear and unslurred as she transitions from the topic of herself to one about me.

"I don't know" I answer honestly, taking another swig of her melon flavored liquor while she pours herself a shot of vodka. "I haven't really decided yet."

"You know you could maybe get an apartment with me and Amanda if you did? NYU has some stupid policy about living at home or in dorms your first year, but I bet you could have Marcus fudge your forms and say you're living at home. My parents wouldn't do it. Said it was lying" she grumbles.

"Maybe" I offer disinterestedly.

"It'd be really cool I think. We could get like a bunch of bean bags instead of furniture for our living room and go to thrift shops to get like really old _Austin Powers_ type stuff. You know, do this whole 60's vibe? An-and we could have all these girl talks while drinking wine and being all sophisticated, just like in _Sex in the City_!" I hate that show and she knows it. She must be further gone than I thought. "It'd be great!"

"Maybe" I repeat, more focused on my own problems and trying to gauge how quickly my friend is slipping out of sobriety. She knocks back her third shot and her eyes immediately get droopier.

"Do you not want to?" She seems hurt by my disinterest, or maybe she's sleepy. I can't tell.

"It isn't that, I'm just not sure what I'm doing yet is all." I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I really never planned on living with her or any of the girls really. I figure I'll just skip college to work with Dave and move into his place eventually. My plan has always been to take Todd's old room and slowly move myself into Dave's. Right now I sleep in Dave's bed and he crashes on the couch when I stay over. In my plan, there'd be no couches in our future… I keep saying my plan and our future, forgetting to put them in the past tense. Maybe that's a sign I really don't want to follow through with this phase out of Dave… Maybe I'm making a mistake?

"Where else would you go if you don't come here? Do you have a better offer?"

"No, I just may not go to school."

"What?!" she screams. I'm assuming her volume is influenced by her intoxication, which is all that keeps me from slapping her for how obnoxious that was. "What else would you do then?"

"Fight crime" I answer seriously but in a tone that's light enough she'll think I'm joking. The comment seems to catch her off guard at first as her face kind of twitches in confusion. When she finally processes it, she seems to take it as a signal I'm not serious about passing on NYU which makes her smile. Then, after filtering out the most important fact for her, she seems to fully process the joke and bursts into a fit of giggles that must be alcohol assisted. It wasn't that funny even if you know my secret, which she doesn't.

"That'd be hilarious" she snorts as she frantically tries to wipe tears of laughter from her cheeks. "Hell, I think I could take you Mindy. You're so freaking tiny! You wouldn't last a day as a crime fighter, not like Hit Girl."

While I understand her comment shouldn't bother me, it does. I might have let it go most other times, but tonight I'm on edge so what she says rubs me the wrong way. "I could take you" I insist. I can feel myself sober completely just at the prospect of a fight.

"Please Mindy" she says in between gulps of vodka, "you couldn't hurt a fly."

"Wanna bet?"

"Oh, you wanna fight?"

It's pretty clear she isn't taking this seriously, but I am. It's a matter of professional honor dammit!

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Alright." Darcy takes a large swig straight from her vodka bottle before setting it aside and getting up off of the floor. She makes a short show of getting herself stretched out and limber, doing a few deep lunges, stretching out her arms, and crouching down into a wobbly fighting stance before giggling out "Let's go!"

Clumsily, she runs at me. I don't want to hurt her, but I'm agitated enough to not go too easy on her either. When she reaches me, I half trip her and half throw her into the wall. She makes a slight "Ugh" sound at the surprisingly loud collision, but then starts giggling as she slides against the wall down to the ground.

Once she gains her bearings, she turns her back to the wall and rests against it. She giggles again, but slightly less than before, and shakes her head. "Guess I was wrong" she snorts, then turns somewhat somber. "Why so edgy though? I was just kidding around!"

"Don't wanna talk about it."

She seems more sober after her run in with the wall, and perceptive as ever. "What'd Dave do this time?"

"Nothing."

"The usual then" she laughs. "Well, considering I know where you spend your Saturday nights and here you are on a Saturday, I'll guess it's bad. My advice, as usual, is to tell him." Her argument would be a lot more convincing if she didn't hiccup at the end of it.

"Maybe" I concede. I will admit, I've been thinking about calling him since I got here (Yea, I know I said I hadn't thought of him. I lie, what can I tell you?). He started swarming me with messages and calls about being uninvited to my birthday thing almost the minute I walked through Darcy's door and his steady cry for attention has nearly broken the rock hard resolve to dump him that I had when I left my house. I know it's not really what I want, setting him aside. Setting aside the sweet, thoughtful, guy who helped me acclimate after I lost my daddy and held my hand whenever I needed it but was too proud to ask doesn't give me the sense of relief I had hoped it would. Instead, the lead weight in my stomach seems to have actually grown… I think I should go talk to him.

"Maybe I should go" I say, gathering my things up into my overnight bag.

"What?" The prospect of me leaving seems to sober her even more. "I thought you were gonna crash on Theresa's bed?" Theresa is her assigned dormmate who is never here.

"Nah, I think you're right. I should go-"

Before I can finish, there's a knock on the door and a female voice calling out "Is everything okay? I heard noises in there, like someone was hurt. Are you okay Darcy?"

The voice sounds familiar. I know why when my friend flings the door open with a goofy grin and pulls the older girl into the room with us. Oh joy, it's her! I totally forgot she was an RA in these dorms. The skank never really crosses my mind much since Dave got rid of her for good.

"Of course we're fine Katie! How good to see you! You look soooo pretty. Like, really pretty. Julia Roberts pretty" Darcy gushes. It isn't clear how much of her diarrhea like stream of compliments is genuine and how much of it is made in hopes that her RA won't report the booze blatantly strewn about. I'm guessing she may have over-exaggerated how "cool" her RA really is.

Katie ignores the sycophantic ramblings of our friend, and the open containers lying on the floor, in lieu of staring at me in much the same fashion I'd imagine I'm looking at her. The blood has left her face, her body is stiff, and she's got the whole fish out of water look going as her lips open and close in a distinct O shape. It'd be funny if it weren't so uncomfortable.

Side note, for those not in the know: I hate this girl. Always have and always will. And the motivation for why I hate her isn't even the reason it should be. I should be angry with how awful she was to Dave. I should hate her for yanking him around and lying to him for all those years. For a while, I actually believed that was where my anger came from, but I can be honest now. Really, what makes me hate her so much is that she is a constant reminder of what Dave's type really is and that I am definitely not it. The girl was with him for four years, off and on, when I know I should've been, and in that whole time I had to make do with brotherly hugs and fond but lustless looks from my friend. And when she wasn't with him, she was always getting in the way in various other annoying ways. Almost like she was trying to purposely make sure I couldn't have him if she couldn't. So yea, I hate her with an undying passion.

Mistaking our looks of shock and disgust as discomfort, Darcy tries to break our glare down. "Oh, manners! Katie, this is my friend Mindy. Mindy, this is the RA I was telling you about, Katie."

"We know each other" Katie points out, the color returning to her face slightly as she shoots me her usual smarmy smile. No one ever noticed how fake she was but me, at least not initially. I always knew. "Hey Mindy." The sound of her voice grates.

"Katie" is all I offer. I really and truly hate her. I think cutting her feet off and ramming them down her throat might make me feel better.

"What have you been up to lately?" She's trying to be friendly and polite. She's never tried to be friendly and polite to me before, unless Dave was around. Then she'd lay it on thick… I don't see Dave anywhere, so what's her game this time?

"Not much. I was thinking of coming here in the fall but not so sure now that I see the quality of people they let in."

The look she gives me tells me my dig landed but she acts like she's clueless to my meaning. "There are some good people here, but I admit there are some real jerks too. I think you should give it a shot. Dave always told me how smart you are."

If she says the name "Dave" again, with that little airhead lilt she adds to it, I swear I'll smash that vodka bottle over her head. His name doesn't belong on her tongue, nor does anything else of his.

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Cool" she nods. "Oh, did Dave tell you about law school? Isn't that great?!" She is almost squealing when she says it. Of course she's excited about it. Half the reason they kept breaking up was she wanted him to leave Kick Ass and me behind. I start to reach for the bottle, my vow to bash her with it if she said his name again was not an empty one, but stop when I realize the implication of what she said.

"Wait, he told you?" I'm not100%, but I feel pretty positive that all of the feelings I've been trying to push away this evening are more than apparent to the people in the room when I ask that. I'm hurt beyond repair, and it's obvious. Last I knew, Dave and Katie didn't even talk anymore. But now he's telling her secrets he wouldn't even tell me?!

Katie seems surprised by the question, her eyes narrowing on my face as she clearly processes something in her head. I don't know what that is, but when those evil green things widen again I know she's figured something out. "Oh, yea. Of course he did! Why wouldn't he?... Oh" she pauses, like the confused look on my face made her realize something. "He didn't tell you…"

"Tell me what?" I have a feeling I'm not going to like this. I knew he had to be hiding more than this law school announcement from me. That'd be the only thing could explain his attitude lately.

"Oh, I'm not sure I should say" she plays coy.

"I'm sure you should" I snap.

She pauses, eyeing me warily, and considers her options. I glance towards Darcy who looks very confused but interested. Finally, Katie fesses up what I'd been dreading to hear since the last time they broke up over a year ago. "Dave and I, well… we have been talking for a bit. He told me how he's getting straight and going to law school, and I was so happy. You know how that was what kept us apart for so long, his silly hobby" she says, shooting me a look. "Well, since then we've been talking and… I don't think I should tell you this. I know Dave wanted to keep it from you until he thought you could take it. I feel like Dave should be the one who-"

I can't muster the energy, because I don't want to hear this. Darcy does though. Her surprisingly lucid voice takes on an edge that is far from the sniveling deference she first exhibited with Katie as she interrupts her elder with a short command. "Just say it."

Katie hesitates again, but then nods and looks at me with a look of great pity as she says "I can't believe Dave didn't tell you… We got back together. He's supposed to come get my stuff after graduation so I can move in with him and Marty."

I thought I'd hit rock bottom earlier, when I just thought Dave _might_ be leaving me. But I was wrong, this is rock bottom. Before, a part of me knew I was overreacting. Some small part kept me afloat, reminding me that we could work through whatever his announcement meant… but this? This just guarantees my worst fears. He's going straight, he's in love with Katie, and soon I'll have no part of him at all. At least in high school I had Kick Ass to myself. Katie had most of Dave, but I had part of him and all of Kick Ass. I knew I could wait, bide my time. But now? She just said it herself, he's leaving this "silly hobby" behind. There's nothing stopping them from having their white picket fence and 2.5 kids now that Kick Ass is buried and gone. I'll be the weird aunt no one really pays attention to, the one their kids wonder why she's there at family gatherings when she clearly doesn't belong. I can't handle that. I was right before. I need to leave Dave behind for good, so I can survive.

Just because I've made the decision to do it, however, doesn't make the loss hurt any less. Unconsciously, I fall to my knees. My vision goes blurry with tears and I can feel my fists balling so hard that my arms start to vibrate with tension. I'm torn between breaking down and breaking Katie in half.

I can hear Darcy bluntly state, "I think you should leave", but it sounds far off in the distance and I don't have the energy to decipher what her words even mean.

I can't do anything right now. Everything is all one big blur. The pain, the actual physical pain, is worse than all the times I've been shot put together. This is worse than dying.

"Mindy!" Darcy's voice says something again, this time louder, but I can't bring myself to pay attention just yet. I need this, I need to mourn for just a moment before moving on.

My mind works on its own, flashing on images of what were once cherished memories but now must be moved into my quickly overcrowding bank of painful ones. My first prom, the first time I pussied out on telling Dave, flashes before my eyes. I'd worn a short purple gown for him (I know he likes purple on women, he's said it before), a special set of underwear underneath, and I even let Darcy do my hair and makeup in hopes that he'd maybe see me as something more than his partner in crime fighting for just one night. It went according to plan early on too, as he picked me up in his rented BMW for the evening wearing a dashing tux and looking cute as ever. He got me a corsage, put it on my wrist before kissing my hand, and opened every door for me that he could from my porch to the fancy Italian restaurant where he made reservations. It was all so perfect, until Katie decided to cement herself on my all-time hate list.

Halfway through dinner, Katie started texting him. To his credit, Dave never once checked his phone, but I couldn't help but feel the vibrating from his back pocket as it shook the booth with each message he didn't answer. Even when we were leaving the restaurant, and we had that little window between dinner and the main event where texting might be acceptable on a date, Dave was a gentleman and ignored them still. I didn't even know who it was that seemed so desperate to get ahold of him until he pulled the object from his back pocket as he got comfortable in his seat and tossed it into the car's cup holder without a glance. Having no boundaries myself, I picked it up and saw that there were 14 messages from "Katie D". I was frustrated, but I knew it really wasn't my business so I put it back after only reading 10 of them. I didn't say anything about it. Something told me he knew who it was, which made me feel even more special when he never even seemed curious to see what she had to say.

Thankfully he left the phone in the car when we got to the school and he hugged me tight on the way in, telling me to "forget her and have a good time". That made me smile. They'd been done for a while, and how he was treating me that night made me feel like I might really have a chance.

Ignoring her didn't work in the end. It actually made it worse. Katie ended up calling the damned school when she couldn't get ahold of my date, phoning in some bullshit fake emergency that led to the principle getting up on stage, interrupting the band, and calling out for Dave until a spotlight picked us out of the crowd. That pissed me off royally and I could tell it made Dave uncomfortable as well. He was perfect about it though, smiling at me and again telling me to try to have fun and to forget her for the night.

After I insisted we leave the dance early, and we did our best to avoid the hordes of questioning looks directed at "the kid who ruined prom", Dave insisted on making it up to me by taking us to what he called his "favorite spot." It was about a 45 minute drive down the main coast, probably 20 miles from Staten Island. When we got there, he took me to the rooftop of an old rundown grocery of the small coastal town I'd never heard of. He set out several blankets he'd hidden in the Beamer's trunk for us to sit on and put down a couple of pillows on top before pulling me to sit next to him. I couldn't help but gasp when he directed my attention out onto the portion of the ocean that lay before us. You could actually see a canvass of stars painted on the water, and we were so close that it seemed like you could reach out and touch them if you wanted.

Cheesy as it was, I was overwhelmed by it all. The old me would have mocked the whole event, maybe called us losers for wasting our time on something so frivolous, but the 16 year old me couldn't help but love it. Deep down I knew he probably didn't mean anything romantic by the gesture, he was just trying to apologize for Katie ruining an important part of my high school life (his words, not mine), but that didn't stop me from enjoying it… or from holding out some small amount of hope that maybe it meant more.

Sitting there, watching nature's light show, I could feel us both relax more than we ever had before. He opened up to me, telling me about how he would borrow his dad's car or hop a train out to that spot whenever he missed his mom because she was from that small town and she had brought him down to that market when he was little and they were in town visiting his grandparents. He also opened up to me about the time that his dad discovered the blood stained wetsuit in Dave's room several years earlier, and how tough it was for Dave to convince his dad that he wouldn't leave him like Dave's mother had. He knew I understood that pain, and I still do.

Emboldened by his honesty, I opened up too. I told him how my daddy would always make up stories for me when I was little, and how he'd always draw comics with me as the hero. I told him how my daddy would take me camping for survival training. How we would take a break from work some nights so that we could go star gazing, much like Dave and I were that night. I told him how when we would look up into the star filled sky, my daddy would swear up and down that stars were the souls of your loved ones in heaven; that when their lights twinkle it's a message from an angel to someone they loved. Daddy would always promise me that if I looked hard enough, I'd see a flicker that was my mom trying to speak to me… I even told Dave about how I still sometimes go up to my own roof, on the rare night you can see the stars that close to the city, and I stay up waiting for a message from my daddy until my eyes get too heavy and I fall asleep only to wake up in my bed after Marcus came to get me.

Then, when our stories were over, we went silent. Both of us seemed content to just lie next to each other for hours on end, our arms just barely touching but the contact so intimate that I was sure it meant more than if we were to maul each other in a ball of passion. As I watched the lights dance across the water, I felt myself wrestling with whether to tell him then. It seemed so perfect. The warmth of his body radiated through my arm as I braved a false shiver and nuzzled against him, claiming "I'm cold". The sensation made me feel bold and brave. Everything inside of me in that moment screamed that I should go for it, as did the entire ambiance of the night. But the more logical part of my brain woke up in that instant and disagreed. It warned that I'd just get hurt, that I was safer hoping he'd pick up on my subtle signs and that I should let him make the first move if anything were to happen between us.

In the end, I decided to go with logic and chickened out. We were fine as friends and doing more could wait… until I looked back up to the sky one last time. I can't explain why, but my eyes locked in on this one very dim star that stood out from the rest and I couldn't shake my gaze from it. It was almost hard to see it was so dim, but it was there. My eyes were transfixed on it for only a moment, again I don't know why, but in that quick pulse of time the star flashed at me and then went out completely… The logical part of me knew from astronomy class that it was nothing more than the remnants of a dead sun, its light dying from our sky long after the star itself had extinguished. But another part of me really believed that wasn't truly what was happening. That part of me knew it was my daddy telling me he approved of my choice, Dave was the one.

With a new found confidence, I turned to Dave ready to pronounce my love, but fate wasn't so generous as to do me two kindnesses that night. I barely got my lips to part before I noticed his eyes were cinched shut tightly and his chest rose and fell in a steady relaxed beat. He was asleep, deeply asleep, and I couldn't bring myself to wake him. Not with how calm and at ease he looked. We never get those types of moments, heroes never do, so I chose to let him rest. I'd have to listen to my daddy's advice another time.

My mind settles on that night for I don't know how long. It is a sick tease, a reality that was too good to be true. A taste of what I want so much, but a reminder that all I'll ever get is that singular moment now that Katie is back and has what she wants. Hit Girl is meant to walk the earth alone; to experience only violence and death, never happiness or love.

I try to snap myself out of this haze, not wanting to see any more of these memories, but I can't. Images of my second prom replace the ones from the first before I can wake from my sweet nightmare. It was just a few weeks ago, but it feels like ages.

I'd let a number of other opportunities with Dave slip by me by then, and he'd done the same. I grew bolder in the past year; my teasing more blatant and the amount of touching more frequent and invasive. None of it worked though, and I never once mustered the courage to actually voice my feelings to him or tell him what I wanted. My mind reasoned that it was because I was waiting for the right time, a moment that would mean something. That's why I settled on my second prom as that moment. It made sense that if my message came after prom, I should act on it AT prom. So I made up my mind, there would be no chickening out this time.

I worked through it all with Darcy and Amanda beforehand. Courtney was less than helpful since she doesn't particularly like Dave, but Marty picked up her slack in between very frequent jokes that he sprinkled in to let us know how truly uncomfortable he was planning such things. I appreciated his effort though. He was a trooper.

A month after I'd set the hard date for my plan, and after weeks of planning, we finally came up with a very grand scheme. Towards the end of the evening, Dave and I would go out into the small garden of our school where the sky could shine but the music would still reach us. Marty and the girls had set up these lights in the small courtyard that twinkled like stars to recreate the scene from a year before. We were supposed to have this epic last dance amongst the flowers (admittedly the garden of our school was lacking in the floral department, but you work with what you've got) and twinkling lights. We would pull each other oh so close as the music from inside began to fade and I'd whisper my true feelings in his ear as he held me tight. When he heard my confession I would pull back to see his face split into a grin, he'd dip me down just as the song inside came to an end, and he'd give me the first smoldering kiss of many; sealing our lives together forever…

What actually happened involved some stupid skater turds pulling the fire alarm early in the night as a prank, both Dave and I getting soaked, and me getting suspended for using my size 4 heels to hospitalize the twats who ruined my life. That night ended just like our relationship has, it would seem. In disappointment.

I know the tears are coming now, as I finally come out of my haze, and I couldn't pass my wet cheeks off as the result of anger even if I wanted to at this point. While my eyes were open the entire time, I start to see for the first time in I don't know how long. When they fully adjust, they perceive only darkness. I briefly contemplate whether I'm blinded by sadness, until I notice the glow from the hallway coming in under the door through my still water soaked eyes. I feel myself turn under a set of blankets and my face smears the wet onslaught from my face onto a pillowcase. Darcy must have gotten me into bed. I was catatonic, of that much I'm sure.

Finally conscious, I don't feel much different than I did before. Contrary to how I'd like to see myself, unshakable, I just can't seem to overcome the pain in this moment. The unwelcome sobs just continue to rock my body, making it lurch and constrict in spasms. I can feel myself choking for air, sniffling away streams of snot, and I can just tell that there is no end in sight. Resigned to making an utter mess of myself for the rest of the night, I silently make an agreement with myself. Tonight I will be weak; just this once. Tomorrow, I will shape the fuck up and put my hurt onto somebody else. Satisfied with that resolution, I proceed to cry myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I apologize for the wait. I do have a bunch of this typed up in rough draft form, I promise. I've just not had time to whip any of it into shape lately. Blame work and life. So if there are any typos or problems with this chapter, I apologize. I wanted to get something out after a long wait.

Thanks to those who are reviewing and following. I hope this continues to be enjoyable for you to read. TorontoBatFan, iwntyou2wntme, and Makokam especially have been thorough in their reviews and the positive feedback I have received encourages me to continue sharing instead of curling up into a ball and hiding what I've written away. Thanks.

A quick rant for those who are interested: **If you have not read the comics and want to without it being spoiled, skip this last note…** Okay, still with me? I'm hoping that the movie next week doesn't disappoint me/us and continues to take liberties with the comic. No offense to those who love Mark Millar's work, but I feel this is one of the few times I prefer the film version over the source material. Millar's sense of "realism" is clearly skewed if it's realistic to him that a little girl could be trained by an accountant and single handedly kill the entire mob, yet he thinks a guy who dons a mask and risks his life time and again in spite of being hospitalized, losing his father, and basically being beaten badly on a number of occasions (Dave) would abandon his friend when she needed him most? To me that's completely against character. Dave, at his core, is someone who risks a lot mostly because he wants to help others. Mathew Vaughn did a lot to turn what is an amusing but flawed comic into something that's absolutely amazing. Here's hoping Jeff Wadlow can continue that trend and allows Hit Girl to continue to grow a personality that Millar never gave her… That, and let's hope they get these two crazy kids together! Anyways, onwards and upwards.

**Chapter 3**

"So still no word?"

Marty falls onto the stool next to me at the bar and motions to the bartender for a beer. He uses his prosthetic to do so, confident that the subtle gesture earns him sympathy with girls. I'll be damned if he isn't right a majority of the time, too.

"Nope" I shake my head, staring into the bottom of my empty glass.

The bartender, a cute blonde with green eyes and a lot of cleavage, brings Marty his beer and ignores his attempt at a flirtatious smile. She's new here so I wonder if she's just immune to his nerdy/pathetic charm or if word has already traveled about how he's "humped and dumped", as he so eloquently puts it, four of Red's female bartenders. Whatever her reason, instead of responding to his leering looks she gestures to my empty glass and asks "Another?"

I nod.

"The hard stuff tonight huh? Sounds like a good foundation for a Marty Party if I ever heard one" he laughs, slapping his good arm against my shoulder before turning to the bartender who is putting the whiskey away after giving me another three fingers. "He's having a rough time…" he squints at her nametag that is precariously placed near her cleavage, I assume for tipping purposes. "Tina" he finishes, but continues to stare at her "name tag" a bit longer than is plausible.

I notice her roll her eyes at his staring, which makes me snicker. The noise catches her off guard and she gives me a bit of a disbelieving look, like she's never had anyone focus on her face long enough to catch something like that. My chivalry earns me what I choose to believe is a genuine smile from a girl who flirts for her rent. "Is that so?" she asks, still looking my way.

"Indeed it is" he nods gravely before perking up and offering his prosthetic for a shake, one last try for sympathy I presume. "And I'm such a good friend I'm here to cheer him up! Hi, I'm Marty by the way."

His arm hangs in the air lamely as she stares at it. "That's nice" she offers with a friendly laugh but no move to shake his hand.

"Yea" he drops it in his lap uncomfortably. I understand his disbelief. That ploy usually works for him. Sensing he has no shot, he switches into what Todd used to call "The Plane Wreck that is Marty the Wingman" in hopes of helping me out. It's sweet, if misguided. "Anyways, Dave's problem, you see, is a girl."

"Cutie like him? Hard to believe he'd have trouble with girls." She smiles at me again and winks. She must think I have cash to blow.

"I know!" Marty exclaims. "His second best friend, me being his first obviously-"

"Obviously" she agrees with a faux serious nod.

"Yea, well his second best friend is having what you might call 'Super PMS'."

"Lemme stop you there" she cuts him off, not seeming particularly offended by the comment but not so fond of Marty to let it slip either. "Girls don't usually respond to terms like 'Super PMS' positively. Not a good start."

She shoots me a look, guilty by association it would seem, which sends my hands up into a defensive posture as I remind her "Hey! I didn't say it!"

"Which is why I'm still here." Another wink.

"A thousand pardons" Marty continues, "but I couldn't think of another way to put it. Let's just say she's being… unreasonable."

"How so?"

Tina seems to be settling in for the long haul as she props her arms against the bar, causing her cleavage to pop out further. Marty stares while I turn my eyes down to the pine. I'm past the obsessive spank bank building stage of my life; a fact that I have to remind myself of a lot lately.

"Well my buddy here just got into law school-"

"Congratulations" she offers and I just shrug, still not wanting to risk getting stuck in her Venus flytrap. I'm a reformed pervert, not a eunuch.

"Exactly! He should be getting congratulations, but instead she's giving him the silent treatment! It's been a week and nothing! She even disinvited him to her birthday dinner!" Another slap on my back, harder this time, and it makes my drink go down the wrong pipe with a choke.

I hear her make a hissing sound accompanied by a pained "Harsh."

"I know! Bitch move if I say so myself."

"Watch it Marty" I warn. Just because Mindy is ignoring me doesn't mean I want anyone talking about her like that.

"Sorry, but it's true."

"He has a point" Tina adds, "that does seem crazy."

"You don't know the whole story." I feel a need to defend Mindy since she isn't here to do it herself. "I'm not exactly easy to get along with, and I didn't even tell her I applied. So there are good reasons for her to be angry."

"Why didn't you tell her?" Tina asks.

"Yea Dave" Marty agrees, barely concealing the little fat man giggles he is famous for from his voice, "Share with Tina why you didn't tell Mindy about law school. Share with us all why."

Asshole.

"It's complicated. I just didn't think she'd be happy about it. It'll definitely get in the way of our… time together, and I wasn't sure if I was going to go anyways. So I put it off."

"Makes sense" Tina nods. "Your girlfriend might freak out if she thinks she's gonna lose you and you didn't know what you'd do, so you waited. But you told her when you got in right?"

"Yea, and she isn't my girlfriend."

"Ha! She might as well be!" Thanks Marty.

"Not your girlfriend? Interesting" Tina smiles, yea I finally looked up again. What of it? "I think I agree with your friend then. Longest she can be mad before going into bitch territory on this is…" she taps her finger against her chin as if she's thinking hard before finishing "three days. Four tops, then she should be over it."

"Mindy is different."

"Mindy? That's her name? Odd choice."

"No it isn't" I defend.

"No weirder than Marty" Marty reasons.

"Who's named Marty?" she questions, which seems to irk my friend to the point of righteous indignation.

"Wait, seriously? I just told you my name like two minutes ago!" The look on his face is pretty funny. He really isn't used to women being this flippant towards him. He's got this weird geeky girl whisperer vibe going for him, usually. I've never gotten how he turns girls to mush so easily but it is amusing when his "voodoo" fails him, if only because of how incensed it makes him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You did? What was it again?" Her smirk tells me she's fucking with him, but Marty misses it.

"Marty! Jesus…"

"Right, Arty! So Mindy" Tina turns the conversation back where it was going, "she's different how?"

"She just is. You'd understand her reaction if you knew her."

"Fuck that! I know her and I still don't get it" Marty scoffs.

"Aren't you the one who is going to her party next week?"

"Well, yea... but that's strictly recon work. I'm going into the lion's den to infiltrate and report back to base! I'm falling on my sword here dude!"

"Says the guy who's been singing his 'I'm gonna get birthday cake' song all week?"

"I like cake, that's not a crime!"

"It's also not good for that belly of yours" Tina adds helpfully while eyeing the few extra pounds that Marty likes to ignore.

"Don't you have some drinks to shill, bar wench?"

Seeing how their back and forth could easily spiral, I redirect the conversation while I can. "Am I also to assume, because you're oh so generous, that a certain crush on a girl named Darcy isn't part of why you want to go to the party either?" I ask disbelievingly.

"Ooohh, juicy" Tina laughs, "Arty and Darcy huh? That kinda rhymes. Like a 70's TV show or something. You know, _Mork and Mindy_ or whatever. Is she a friend of yours too Dave?"

"Jesus, she gets his name right after one damned try" Marty mutters before stating louder, "It's Marty, not Arty."

"My bad, I'm bad with names." Another wink in my direction. I'd swear she has something in her eye…

"Whatever" he grumbles. "The point is that if I don't go, then things will just get worse between you guys. If I go, maybe I can convince her to talk to you? I could even take that damned present you worked so hard to get her that is sitting in our living room wrapped in purple paper looking pathetic as shit."

"Awe! That's so sad!" Tina whines.

"It's fine, it's just a present." I shake off her pitying look. I hate pity. Reminds me of the looks I would get in the hallway when Katie's friends spread the rumors that I was "diddling that blonde eighth grader"… though that was more disgust than pity now that I think about it. The counselor called me and Mindy into her office three different times, once with Marcus, to discuss the allegations. I'm surprised Marcus ever let me near Mindy after that. Then again, he did institute that ban for a while after too.

"But it's like this symbol of your friendship, something unwrapped and unfulfilled. It's sad" she insists.

"Yea Dave" he's giggling again, "it's sooo saaaaad!"

"Don't mock" Tina admonishes while hitting him with her wet bar rag.

"Jesus, I was just kidding! Calm down Boozezilla!"

They are still bickering when I feel my phone vibrate. Hopeful it's Mindy, I pull it out only to feel my shoulders sag when I see Katie's number again. She's been swarming me with messages for a couple of months, ever since Marty ran into her at the school bookstore and he ended up giving her my information for some stupid ass reason. I managed to ignore her for the most part, until she mentioned seeing Mindy drunk at NYU with some guys a week ago. The thought of my Mindy out with some NYU douchebags just hours after dropping me off made me respond with questions, in spite of the fact I had no interest in ever talking to Katie again. I've been trying to get more info out of Katie ever since. It's like pulling fucking teeth though. All she does is drop vague hints about Mindy and then change the subject. It's getting old, quick.

**Katie D: **Hey, I got someone to cover my shift at the dorms tonight if you wanna hang?

"Fuck, is that Katie?" Marty is so helpful.

"Yea."

"Why do you even talk to her man? You were doing so well!"

"You're the one who gave her my new number and told her I was single and going to law school! You didn't think that'd get her after me when you know the terms of our last break up?"

"I figured it'd be funny to see you squirm. I also thought you had the sense to ignore her, dipshit."

"Who is Katie? Your girlfriend?" Tina asks.

"No, I don't have a girlfriend" I shake my head, staring at the lit up screen as I try to think of a nice way to turn Katie down.

"Yea" Marty laughs into his beer, "Dave's dick gets less action than a decommissioned submarine."

"At least that means he isn't rife with STDs" Tina snaps, looking pointedly at Marty. Her gaze makes him squirm and turn away.

"Get The Clap from a sketchy stripper ONCE and all of a sudden you're a leper" I hear him mutter under his breath. I wonder how she knew about that?

I'm about to ask her that very question when a group of guys pile into the bar and sit on the other end, yelling out for service. Tina shakes her head at the boisterous crowd and turns to me. "Listen, I think you're sweet. If you feel like it, give me a call sometime." She jots down her number on a napkin and stuffs it into my hand tightly. "I'd really like to get to know you." She winks again and is gone.

"Fuck, that girl is a bitch" Marty whines, though he waits until she is out of earshot like a true gentleman before saying it.

"You just don't like her cuz she put you in your place."

"Well of course that's why, Captain Buttplug! I don't happen to like being in my place, you should know that. I much prefer putting something in her place, if you know what I mean?" If I didn't know, his wagging eyebrows would clue me in.

"Classy."

"Loosen up" he groans, "I'm just fucking with you. She seems cool, you should call her. Hot too" he finishes before taking a final swig from his beer. Another bartender, a regular named Keith, brings him a second without having to be asked. We come here often enough that most of the employees know Marty's brand, his usual intake, and his limits.

"I'm just not feeling in a dating mood."

"Because of Mindy" he says bluntly, his eyes now focused on a booth full of coeds near the back of the room. He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It isn't.

"What do you mean?"

He turns his eyes from his "prey", as he likes to call them, and stares at me in disbelief. "It means that you aren't dating because you're in love with Mindy. I get it, makes sense" he shrugs, rotating so he's back on the prowl.

"I am not! She's like my sister…"

"Sister you'd like to fuck" he snorts.

"Gross!"

"Well, it depends on how you do it but it can be gross depending on what hole you put it in."

"Maybe I will call Tina" I ponder defiantly.

"Cool. Won't change the fact that you're in love with Mindy, but you do need to get laid. I wholeheartedly support that move."

"You're an asshole." He really is.

"A fact which you've been aware of since, what? First grade?" I nod, though he can't see it, and he continues "So you've had ample time to stop talking to me if you don't want to hear my asshole take. Yet here I am, living in the room next door to yours. What's that say about you?"

"That I'm an asshole too?" I wonder.

"I was going to say an idiot, but asshole works."

"You're smarter than you look" I laugh, finally feeling some semblance of the cloud lifting from the past few months if only a little and for a short moment.

"Eh, doesn't take a genius to see you're fucking up with Mindy."

"How so?"

This time he doesn't turn from the girls with just a passing look, but he seems to focus on me for a longer encounter. "You think that talking to Katie will do anything positive for your Mindy situation? You are aware they hate each other, correct?"

"They don't hate each other." I'm probably less convinced by my weak words than he is. Then again, the look he shoots me tells me we may be on equal footing in that particular area.

"Bullshit!" he laughs. "Who do you think spread those rumors about you and Mindy our senior year?"

"That wasn't Katie" I defend.

"Sure it wasn't" he snorts with a roll of his eyes. "What about when 'someone' slit the tires on Katie's new car?"

"What about it? We don't know who did that."

"_We_ may not, because _we_ are ass clowns, but most of us saw it pretty clearly. Katie sure as hell knew."

"Mindy wouldn't do that."

She actually would. It's vintage Mindy. I remember asking her about it when it happened, but she just pouted out her lower lip and gave me an innocent look, insisting that Katie did it herself to get attention. It made sense at the time, or at least it made sense when Mindy said it in that pouty way she always uses to get me to do whatever she wants.

"Dude," he lowers his voice so no one else will hear him and leans in to whisper "Mindy is Hit Girl. There isn't much she wouldn't do if someone pissed her off enough." Pulling back, his voice returns to its natural volume and continues "Which is something you should probably keep in mind yourself. Besides, it's no coincidence that it happened the day after you guys were called in for your third meeting with the guidance counselor. Remember? Mindy threw a fit after Marcus wouldn't let you take her to the Homecoming game because people would talk? Then the next day Katie has to get four new tires? No? Not ringing bells?"

"Those two things are not related" I defend, believing everything I say less and less as the night goes on.

"Are you really this stupid? Because I always assumed you were smarter than you seemed. I mean come on Dave, seriously! You didn't put two and two together there?"

"I try not to jump to conclusions."

"Right, well how about the time that someone bleached Katie's hair green while she slept? Or when Katie dragged you away from patrol because she heard someone in her basement?"

"Ugh, anything can sound bad if you put it like that. Mindy understood I had to make sure Katie was okay."

"Jesus Dave! The noise in her basement was her brother! He fucking lived down there! Did you know that we all had to listen to an earful about what a 'cunt' Katie is after that? How unprofessional it was, how 'that bitch' needs to understand you have real business to take care of? Shit, she even printed off a picture from Katie's Facebook page and used it for knife throwing practice! Surprised you didn't see it, she left it up for over a week."

"Whatever. Even if all that is true, it isn't like I'm hanging out with Katie or anything. If Mindy would talk to me I'd have no reason to try to get answers out of Katie in the first place."

As if on cue, my phone vibrates again and I check it with less hope that it's Mindy than I did the last time. It isn't, it's Katie again.

**Katie D: **I guess you're busy. Some friends and I are headed to Red's for drinks if you wanna meet us later.

Shit. "Katie is coming here" I warn.

"God dammit Dave! Why would you invite her here when we've just been talking about how this is a HORRIBLE idea? You just said you weren't hanging out with her!"

"I didn't invite her! She just invited us to meet her and her friends here for drinks." I try to think of something I could say to her that would keep her away, but I'm drawing a blank.

"Of course she did! Katie knows this is our regular place, so when you don't answer she stalks you. You do realize that she's just going to fuck with your head again, right? Make sure she can get you back and then lose interest just like last time?"

"No she won't, because we are leaving" I say, getting up from the bar and grabbing my coat. I toss a fifty on the bar for my three drinks and Marty's two before I start to head out.

"What? Why?! She's chasing us out of _our_ bar on a Saturday night? This is prime time to pick up chicks" he whines, though he does make to leave with me without putting up too much of a fight. When we are halfway to the door, he runs back to the bar to grab something before meeting me at the exit.

"Where'd you go?" I ask, funneling out to the street and starting in no particular direction.

"You forgot this." He holds up the napkin with Tina's number on it and waves it around proudly.

"I don't think I'm gonna call her" I state, keeping an eye on the oncoming pedestrians in case we somehow run into Katie and her friends. My luck seems to dictate something like that would happen.

"Pussy" Marty laughs, reaching to stuff the napkin in my jacket pocket. "Just hang on to it, in case you change your mind. It's a rare occasion that you catch a lady's eye when I'm around" he teases. "You gotta take advantage of someone that brain damaged."

"Weren't you the one telling me I'm fucking up with Mindy? How would calling that girl help?"

"Valid point. Still think you should call her. She was hot, interested, and didn't seem too vapid aside from her obvious bad taste in men. Mindy isn't talking to you, so she can't get too mad if you get your dick wet between now and when she snaps out of Super PMS."

"Ha-ha! You might have a point there, but I still think I'm gonna pass."

"Man!" he laughs, pointing us towards a late night comic shop with a sign that reads "Grand Opening" and a small chalkboard menu sitting outside the door with a list of drinks and food. I pull the door open and he follows me in, shaking his head in disapproval. "You have it worse than I thought for our little blonde friend."

"This has nothing to do with Mindy. I'm just not interested in Tina."

"Why would you be? She's just a clever chick with nice tits, a great ass, and an ability to get us free booze if you let her suck your dick. You're right, that sounds just awful" he says with mock disgust.

"Not all of us let our purple headed prince lead us around on a leash" I defend.

"Says the guy who used to jerk off to Smurfette" Marty snorts before losing interest once a stray idea comes into his head. "Ooh, I want to see if they have that 'Battle Guy' comic they put out a while ago. That shit'll be worth a lot someday" he exclaims as he's already blitzing to the back of the shop.

The place looks high end, with a ritzy cafe at the entrance and four times the booths they have at Atomic Comics. The sign says they don't close til 2 a.m. and it looks like that's a good business model judging from the number of people sitting around with coffee and baked goods while reading their newly bought comics. It's like an oasis for nerds who can't get a date on Saturday night… a.k.a. me.

Feeling awkward about just standing at the front of the store staring at people, I decide to go exploring. Each aisle has a good number of people perusing, so it's a bit of a hassle getting anywhere you want to, but I manage. I end up grabbing a _Nightwing_ I don't have and an older _Thor_ that Mindy spilled soda on a couple years ago that I need to replace. Besides that, I'm not really in a comic mood so I just browse through random aisles aimlessly waiting for Marty to be done.

Eventually I get antsy and go in search of my friend rather than wait for him to come to me. I find him towards the front behind a large shelf of vintage Star Wars figurines. He's talking to a woman by the sound of it. When I round the corner, I recognize the medium stature and short brown hair with blue streaks in it.

"Oh, hey Dave!" Marty is the first to notice me. When the girl turns towards me her face falls into a frown. Courtney never liked me, and I doubt this week has done anything to earn me any points with her.

"Hey Dave" she offers halfheartedly.

"Courtney, how are you doing?"

"Good."

"You liking Fordham?"

"Yea."

"I didn't know you liked comics."

"I don't. I was just getting a present for… a friend."

This is awkward.

"Courtney was just telling me a few interesting tidbits" Marty gloats, which earns a glare from the punk girl with a nose ring and a feloniously short skirt.

"Shut up Marty" she seethes between clenched teeth.

"What?" he shrugs innocently.

She rolls her eyes at him and then shoots me what is a not so friendly look. "I gotta go" she mumbles, pulling the plastic bag full of what looks like comics to her chest and turning to leave in a hurry.

"God I'm popular" I grumble.

"Exactly my thoughts" Marty agrees with a smile, slapping me on the back for the umpteenth time as he leads me to the front of the checkout. "But I got some intel which should make you happy… Well, the fact I got intel should make you happy. The intel itself? Not so much."

We both take our comics to the register and begin to pay. A pink haired girl dolled up like an anime character mans the register and her eyes shoot to Marty's plastic appendage the second he sets it on the counter. Her mouth drops open and she gives the typical response that always seems to boost Marty's self-confidence to intolerable levels. "Oh my God, you poor baby! What happened?"

"Afghanistan" he says solemnly, his usual response.

I've told him it's pretty offensive to lie about being a veteran, but he reasons he lost it in battle so he can get away with lying about what kind of battle it was. He still doesn't want people knowing he's the fat guy in the blue costume from YouTube who tripped over his own feet in our last melee with Chris, tumbled comically over a set of stairs, and got his arm caught in an old bailer on the way down. He literally didn't get touched by anyone but himself. The security cam footage has gotten several million hits so far. To be fair, about a thousand of those were Mindy, but it's still a pretty popular video. Hell, some guys at Berkley School of Music even gave it a techno remix, altering Marty's girlish screams with some sort of synthesizer and cutting it so it loops over a repetitive beat. It's surprisingly catchy.

"You are such a hero" the redhead fawns, placing a hand over her heart and giving him a sultry look. "Why don't I give you my employee discount?"

"Your country thanks you."

God he's laying it on thick.

"Do you guys want anything else? Some coffee or a bagel? They're really good."

Marty eyes the display case of goods hungrily, but shakes his head no. "Nah, thanks though. You're such a sweetie."

Her cheeks turn the shade of her hair at his compliment and she rings him up. Then she checks me out, no discount for good ole Dave, and we make our way back outside. "So what intel is it you had for me?" I wonder.

Marty starts to say something when his phone vibrates. The second he checks it, his friendly and cocky grin falls. He doesn't say what the message was about when he responds or even after he stuffs the phone back in his pocket, but his mood has clearly changed. "I'll tell you later. I don't feel like walking. Take a cab home?"

"It's seven blocks."

"I'll pay."

"Whatever."

The yellow car stops, loads us up, and immediately hits a red light. "Did you find anything good in there?"

"Stop stalling Marty."

"Stalling? Who's stalling? I'm just being friendly man. You know, you were a lot more fun before this whole law school business. Maybe this attitude is part of why Mindy won't talk to you, ya think?" His tone tells me he isn't completely serious, but I've heard a version of that from enough people to know there is a lot of truth to it. I really need to get over this funk. I guess my first step could be to indulge him in his stall tactics and let him keep his "intel" to himself for the time being.

"Sorry. Yes Marty, I got a couple comics. Did you find that issue of the fat blue guy that you were looking for?"

"Hey, name calling is uncalled for!"

"Who is calling names? It's not like Battle Guy is here in the cab with us. The corpulent crusader is probably somewhere in the Bahamas right now, ya know?"

He eyes the cabbie warily before laughing and shaking his head "No, you're right" he agrees in a tone that says he'll get me back for the corpulent comment. "But if we are talking lame superheroes then we gotta mention that green and yellow turd that is still hanging around like a dingle berry of society that should've dropped years ago. You know I heard he is GAY?!" He says that last part rather loudly, and the cabbie's shoulders visibly shake with laughter.

"I wouldn't know, but I do know he can at least walk straight. You see that YouTube video of Battle Guy tripping over his own two feet? What'd that poster's comment say again? 'So sad it's funny, but so funny it's sad'?"

"That bitch didn't know what she was talking about!"

"Watch it" I quietly warn again. Mindy isn't a bitch, she's just… different.

"Here's your stop guys, that'll be $10.50."

Marty starts to get out of the cab without paying, so I grab his shirt and say "I thought you were getting this?"

"Oh, right. I forgot my wallet." Which is bullshit, he paid from his wallet at the comic store. "I'll get you back later." Then he's walking past a new doorman I've never seen before and into our building.

"Asshole" I mutter, causing the cabbie to laugh again as I hand him a twenty and tell him to keep the change.

I don't catch up to Marty until I'm in our apartment. The place is big with its long hallway, open living room, two baths, a huge marble covered kitchen, and three bedrooms, so I don't see Marty immediately when I walk in. I chuckle to myself as I hang up my coat, remembering a few months ago when his parents came to visit and kept wondering at how we could afford such a nice place. Marty told them that I finally got the insurance money from my mom's death a couple of years ago and that paid for most of it. The sacks of drug money that sit in my closet, and in safety deposit boxes around town, are our little secret.

I can see Marty in the kitchen through the bar window as I cross the threshold to the living area. He's putting together a sandwich at the island with great concentration, so I sit on a stool next to the bar and wait for his attention. He looks focused, which is usually not a good thing.

"You want one?" he asks, seemingly genuine in his offer as he moves to get more supplies.

"Sure, if you're making it."

"Least I can do since you paid for my drinks and the cab, right?"

I smile at the offer, and at seeing him relax into what is a much more likeable version of my friend. Marty is an interesting guy. It's almost like he puts on a show in public, the smartass horn dog he thinks people expect him to be. He's a decent guy when he's putting on the act, amusing at least, but he can be a great guy when he isn't playing up to expectations or a crowd. That's why I'm not shocked when he hands me the sandwich that was clearly meant for him and goes to make another. There's no one here to impress, so he can be himself.

"You alright? You know I was just kidding about the Battle Guy stuff, right?"

"Yea, of course" he waives me off. "You know I don't bruise easy. If anything you get it worse than I do, especially lately, so I'm happy to be numero deuce in that case."

"I can't argue with that logic. I don't wanna be me right now either" I say around a mouthful of turkey.

"Clearly" he smirks. When he's done making his sandwich, he plops down next to me and takes a large bite. "So I talked to Courtney."

"Clearly" I parrot. "Did she mention anything about Darcy?"

"Um, not really. But I've been talking to Darcy a lot lately, so I'm hopeful. I actually like her a lot and the age difference doesn't seem to bother her that much."

"Why would it? It's three years dude. You're 22, she's 19."

"I don't know" he shrugs, "why does it bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"Bull. You've had a beautiful girl after you for years and the only excuse was the age difference."

"First, that wasn't the only excuse, second she wasn't after me" I point out, "and third, it's called a felony Marty!"

"Only for the first four years, the last two she's technically been legal for your purposes."

"I don't have any purposes" I say with a shake of my hands, tossing the last third of my sandwich on the plate. I'm not so hungry anymore.

"Okay, for her purposes then."

"Stop."

"Look, the point I'm trying to make is just that you need to either let the girl move on without you or start to see what's in front of you."

"Wasn't the point originally about you and Darcy?"

He looks like he's thinking hard on that point for a moment, then shoves the last half of his sandwich in his mouth all at once, mumbling out "You're right" with a spray of bread and mustard sprinkling across the tabletop. By the grace of God he swallows before continuing any further. "Not much to say there, except I think I got a shot."

"That's great" I say genuinely, "but is this serious or just another passing thing?"

"Serious, I think. She's cute, really fucking smart, and calls me on my shit. She also gets my jokes, which most of the girls I date don't."

"That's true," I offer, "if you can call what you do dating."

"Whatever you call it, I think she's different. She's making me work for it, which I admire. Plus, Mindy would prolly cut off my balls if I fucked this up. I think that's good, to have that fear be there. Might keep me in line."

"Might not."

"True, but that wasn't the point either. Stop distracting me" he chides with a smile. "My original point was that I talked to Courtney, used my charms on her, and she ended up accidentally offering me some juicy little tidbits about our girl Mindy."

"Like?" I'm ashamed to play a part in this high school gossip game, but I can't help myself. I miss her, a lot. If I can fix whatever is wrong, I'll do it by any means necessary.

"Like" he glances at me sheepishly and seems to brace for some impact after he's done, "apparently Katie is telling everyone that'll listen that you guys are back together. I guess Katie is Darcy's RA or something, so Mindy went over there the night you guys fought and Katie told her you two had gotten back together but that you didn't want to tell Mindy yet. I guess Mindy was pretty broken up about it."

Maybe Mindy really does have feelings for me then… I don't know what to do with that.

"How broken up was she?"

"Dude, how broken do you think? I've told you for years that the girl is in love with you. When will that sink in? Does it not make sense? Do all the clues not add up? Think about it for a second. I mean seriously think about it. Right now, do it. I have time" he says, getting up to make another sandwich for effect. So I do.

It's hard to say what a clue is and isn't in hindsight. That first week she was in classes was an outlier; she had the natural excitement of a kid who'd never actually been to school and who foolishly thought it'd be "really cool". Soon reality of a regular teenage life set in, though, and I'm guessing she figured out why it was I first donned the mask in the first place… Because being a normal teenager sucks.

After that realization seemed to kick in, she started to keep everyone at a distance; marching through the halls like some miniaturized T-1000 sent by Skynet to infiltrate and destroy. I felt so bad about that, how lost she looked, because I knew I was responsible. I knew that if she still had her dad around, if I hadn't come into the picture, that she could have avoided all the school bullshit and still been happy. She could have been off doing something exciting instead of facing finals, pep rallies, and all that other crap most of us hate while the teachers pretend we don't. Ya know? And since I was responsible, I knew it was also my duty to do something about it. It was my responsibility to fix things. I had to befriend the Terminator, teach it to be human.

It wasn't easy at first. Those initial two or three weeks were kind of like talking at a brick wall. I'd stop her in the hall or nag on her til she'd sit next to me at lunch, but it always ended the same. When she'd had enough, she'd stop whatever it was she was doing, look me in the eye, and slap me hard across the face… I mean hard, like really hard. It hurt like hell too, even if most people thought it was funny that I was getting slapped by a tiny girl.

Anyways, that went on for a while. Me trying to befriend her while she silently tolerated me until she had her fill for the day and her hand would finally meet my cheek. But then one day, it was a Tuesday I remember, I was yammering on as usual and preparing myself for my mid-day slap when an odd thing happened. She didn't slap me. In fact, instead of slapping me she actually responded to what I was saying. I don't remember what it was I said, something about Naruto I think, but I remember her snickering reluctantly and then legitimately responding. It was shocking, to say the least. It was like she had finally realized I wasn't going anywhere, that like it or not I was going to give her someone she could count on, and she chose to accept that.

From there on out, it was like a switch was flipped between us. All of a sudden she was voluntarily sitting at our lunch table without me having to ask. She took me with her to train and eventually to patrol. She'd come to Atomic Comics and talk X-Men with me and Todd. She'd even horn in on my date nights with Katie because she was lonely. Katie didn't understand why I "put up with it", but to me I wasn't putting up with anything. I liked having Mindy around. She was and is fantastic! It was amazing having someone around who knew everything about me and could actually understand why it was I did what I did. Not even the people in Justice Forever could get it, because she and I? We were originals. Everyone else joined a trend, but we were the ones who started it. That, I thought, would bond us forever.

Looking back on it all, though, it's hard to decipher when things might have changed in a way I was never aware. I knew she'd let me in, accepted me past her series of defenses and walls, but I never considered it was ever more than us becoming best friends. I never thought that when she would give me long hugs, or make an effort to sit next to me at the movies, that it was anything more than friendship. I never thought that when she cuddled into me when she was cold, or would occasionally ask me to carry her books in the hallway, that those were things a couple would do. Did Mindy know? Or was she as clueless as I was to the implications of our relationship?

I remember, then, the night I met her. I was so freaked out by everything that happened at Razul's that I kind of blocked out a lot of it for a long time. But now that I think about it? There was a weird smile she kept sending my way as she sliced and diced. Not to mention the fact that she blew me a kiss when she was hopping out my window that night. Was that her taunting me? Or was that her 12 year old way of flirting? Was her overzealous glee just childish excitement? Or was it the beginnings of what Marty and everyone else insists is more? It's all so damned confusing.

Marty is right about one thing, though. A lot of her behavior makes more sense if I accept his premise. The air drying, the times she begged me to sleep with her instead of on the couch because she gets cold, and all the times she'd freak out if a girl gave me their number or how much she hated Katie? It seems a lot less odd through the prism Marty seems to see things through.

"God dammit!" Marty jumps at the sudden outburst, nearly dropping the jar of mayonnaise on the floor in the process. "If you knew that's how she felt, why would you even risk giving Katie the time of day?!"

He rolls his eyes and puts the glass jar of white goo away, pulling a package of cheese out on the way back. "I told you how Mindy felt, and you wouldn't listen. Why the fuck would I think that giving Katie your info would change anything when you haven't listened to anybody about Mindy for the past six years? Besides, you're not blame free in all of this. Remember?"

He's right, I'm not. I'm probably to blame for everything bad that's ever happened to Mindy, in all seriousness. With a sigh, I concede "I know I'm not, but I don't know how many times I can apologize for not telling her about law school. I was nervous, and I really didn't think it'd blow up this big."

Without looking up from the final touches on the sandwich in front of him, he scolds "This is about more than law school and you know it. It's about you wanting to ditch that mask."

I don't know what to say to that. He's right. It's something I haven't wanted to address, but it isn't going away. As much as I want to pretend Mindy is overreacting, a part of me has always known she's smart enough to read between the lines. To see what my application really meant, even if I was too chickenshit to admit it.

"How'd you know?"

"Please" he snorts, taking a bite of his finished masterpiece, "we've already established I've known you since Power Rangers were still cool. Give me some credit. What you need to worry about is how much Mindy has figured out. Because she could just be overreacting to you keeping a secret, but my gut says she's figured out what I have. It's the only explanation for this hissy fit she's throwing."

Getting up, I feel slightly dizzy on my feet but I'm too antsy to sit. Eventually I compromise and post my elbows on the counter, resting my head in my hands. "I just don't know what to do. I want her in my life, and I want to keep making a difference. It's just that after Todd I-"

"I know dude, believe me I know." Tossing half his sandwich on his plate, he moves to grip my shoulder tightly. Leaning in, he takes a deep breath and pauses before he frowns and whispers to me "But if we keep up with all this estrogen talk, we'll both grow vaginas. You know that right?"

"You're a prick" I bite, meaning it this time as I stalk into the living room so I don't succumb to the urge to break his clavicle.

"It's a joke Dave" he whines as he follows me. "I know what you mean, I really do man! Todd dying sucked, but you couldn't help that."

"It's just that it doesn't stop with Todd. Ever since, the death toll just seems endless. And for what? So we can keep people from shooting up? If they wanna ruin their lives, let em!"

"You know it's about more than that. I couldn't cut it, clearly, but you've tackled this thing with her to the point you're a fucking beast! Why quit when you're legitimately Batman, dude? What you guys do isn't about the junkies and you know it! It's about the guys who sell to the junkies. I may joke with you, but you guys take out people who hurt innocents every day. I admire that! It's why I dressed up like a fat Captain America and got my arm lopped off like an idiot. Because I wanted to be what you are, but I couldn't! And believe me, that's the last time I'll ever admit it!"

I can feel my mouth drop open like a guppy at his admission. Shock fills my veins like ice and I can't seem to process how on God's green earth anyone could feel the way Marty just admitted to feeling. Because of all the things I could be? I definitely don't feel like a hero. Not anymore. Not with the things I've done to people, bad guys or no.

When I do find my tongue, my words sound trite. "I don't know what to say Marty. I'm so-"

"No apologies, okay? I didn't say that to make you feel guilty. I said it to knock some fucking sense into you. Besides, we are getting way off topic here. All I was saying is that Mindy can pick up on the fact that something's been up your ass for a long time. Maybe if you're honest with her, things could start to heal?"

"I tried being honest" I remind him, "which is what got me where I am right now."

"No, what got you here was half-honesty. You told her the symptoms, not the disease."

"We're eloquent today, aren't we?"

"Don't change the subject when I'm finally being serious."

"Fine, but if we're being honest then it's your turn. You know my secret and you've said your piece. Now, tell me what Courtney told you. What is it exactly that Katie is feeding Mindy?"

He looks sheepish and hesitates before answering. "I didn't get that much out of Courtney, okay? My guess is that Katie is fishing for info from you so that she can drop it to Darcy, who we all know will relay it to Mindy. The more she can tell her about what you're up to, the easier it is to make it all seem more believable. I'd bet that's half of what she's doing when she tries to talk to you."

"Fuck me."

"Told you not to talk to her."

"Even if I hadn't, it wouldn't have changed anything but the last few days. It sounds like Katie did most of her damage with info she got from you."

He flinches. "Yea, was hoping you wouldn't pick up on that."

"And now I'm left with one friend in the whole world" I sigh, feeling ultimately sorry for myself in this moment. A fact that makes me hate myself for being such a sad sack.

"I wouldn't say that" he smiles, "there's always Tina."

"Joy! Tina, the girl we just met tonight, is now my second best friend. You know how pathetic that is? I don't even know if we have anything to talk about."

"You don't need to _talk_ to her…"

"You're an ass."

He has an uncanny ability to disarm any situation with humor. I was inches from hospitalizing him less than a minute ago and now I'm laughing.

"Hey, I'm just saying you aren't so alone man. There's that girl Jordan in your Capstone that I see giving you googly eyes when your study group is over. Plus, there's Marcus too. He still likes you."

"Jordan is a lesbian whose 'googly eyes' as you put it are actually a stigmatism. She hates my guts by the way, so thanks for that, and Marcus is totally not an option right now. I'm sure he absolutely loves the guy who's got his little girl upset like this. He probably wants to drop my balls from Times Square."

"His message sounded friendly enough" Marty says as he finishes his second sandwich and opens the fridge. He pops two beers open before sliding one to me and leaning back against the counter.

"What message?"

"Oh shit, you didn't get that?" He turns to look at the fridge and sees it's bare. "I figured you grabbed the note since it isn't there anymore." Bending down on his knees, he reaches under the fridge and paws around for a tick before coming back up with a yellow post it. He hands it to me.

It reads: _Dave, Marcus left a message on the machine. I saved it. Sounds important. –Marty_

"When did he leave it?"

"Um… a couple days ago I think. No, it was yesterday. I remember because the taco truck is only here on Fridays and I spilled some grease from one of their burritos on my pants while I was listening to it. Damn, hope I can get that out. I like those pants…" he trails off.

"I wonder what he wants."

Snapping to, it's clear how much he really loves those pants. "Huh?"

"Marcus" I say irritably, "I wonder what he wants."

"Oh, no clue."

"Why would he call our landline anyways?" I wonder.

Marty's brows crease thoughtfully as he agrees. "Yea, I wondered the same thing. Lucky I have been waiting to hear back from my student loan people or that message could've sat there for weeks."

"Yea, lucky" I mumble as my mind processes all the things that could be wrong. Is Mindy okay? Wouldn't someone have tried harder to contact me than leaving a single message if she wasn't? Surely Courtney would have mentioned if something were wrong when we saw her earlier, even if she does hate my guts. Right?

Marty seems to notice my concern and snaps me out of it by urging me to "Call him. I doubt it's bad. He seemed like he was more worried than mad."

"I don't know what I'd say to him" I admit more to myself than to Marty. Honestly, I don't know what I'd say to Mindy if she would talk to me either. I've worked so hard to ignore when people would imply something was going on between us for so long that denying it when something might actually happen is second nature. Denial is just the natural, and intelligent, thing to do when you're 18 and the girl in implication is 14. But that isn't really the case anymore, as Marty so often points out.

I know she's beautiful, that much is just impossible to deny. I also know that we are both old enough that it wouldn't be particularly creepy if we were together anymore. I just don't know how to go about any of this. If I'm honest with myself, the evidence does stack up in favor of there being more between us than I have ever wanted to admit. There really isn't a woman that could come close to Mindy for me in any meaningful way. She has no equal in beauty, smarts, ability, personality, or in trustworthiness. Does that mean I'm _in_ love with her though? It doesn't feel like it did with Katie. With her I felt so sure of everything, but incredibly lost at the same time. I was so busy trying to keep her that I never stopped to really consider what it was I was keeping. I just trusted my dick to lead me in the right direction. But looking back now? I doubt more and more if it was really love I felt for Katie. Lust is more likely, or infatuation. I know I never worried about her like I do Mindy. I know being away from her was nothing like this past week has been without my short, deadly, foul mouthed blonde.

"I bet you he'd talk first" Marty says, snapping me out of my haze of doubts.

"Who?"

"Marcus" he drawls out slowly, like he's speaking to a mentally handicapped person.

"Oh, yea I guess he would. I'll call him tomorrow."

"Bull! Don't put it off. Call now" he insists, a stern look on his face as he tosses our landline at me and waits with his hands gripping the counter tightly. "This could be your chance to make your case to Mindy. Don't lose it. I feel guilty enough, so if you won't do it for you do it for me."

"I thought you were going to her party so you could be my chance to make my case?"

He looks down at his feet and scuffs them against the tile floor, mumbling something I can't make out.

"What?" I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.

Looking up, he mumbles more loudly "I guess I'm not invited anymore either."

"Since when?" I shout louder than intended. I guess I underestimated how much I really was counting on Marty helping me out.

"Since she sent me this outside that comic shop tonight" he says as he slides his phone across the counter and looks away like he doesn't want to see my reaction.

**Mindy:** Hey, I don't wanna be a bitch but I don't think you should come next week. It'll just be too hard and Courtney told me what you said. I appreciate you looking out for Dave, but I just need time. I still love ya. Please don't be mad.

That takes the wind out of me. Just seeing her name, her smiling face in the background of the text bubbles, after a week of nothing? It knocks me back. Seeing words I know are from her is almost like a balm to the pain I've been trying to ignore in her absence, the next best thing to actually talking to her, until I process their content. Their meaning couldn't be worse.

"I guess that's that."

"Yea" Marty says awkwardly. "I really don't know what to say about that. No one can make Mindy listen to you.

"No one can't make Mindy do anything" I grumble.

That earns me a laugh as he nods in agreement. "That is very true, which is why you should call Marcus. While he can't force her to do anything, he can do more good than I could. She's shutting you and me out right now."

That's always been my biggest fear about all of this. When Mindy shuts down, everything is put on hold and nothing gets fixed on anything but her own timeline. Usually she would just hold out stubbornly until I'd figure out what I'd done wrong and apologize, even if it wasn't my fault. In the past, that's all it would take. An "I'm sorry". I've tried apologizing literally a thousand times this time, though, and nothing. I counted, and I have seriously sent her over a 1,000 texts, calls, and I've been to her house eight times. This silent treatment is obviously different than the others. It's more final, and I don't know what I can do to stem that finality other than pray Marcus isn't too mad and can do something to stay my execution.

"Alright, I'll call him."

I hand Marty his phone back and get off of the stool to go into my room. When the door is closed, I can feel my heart start to beat faster and faster as I scroll through the caller ID on the phone and hit "Call" when Marcus' name comes up. It's that nervous feeling you get when you're making that first contact with a girl you really like and are panicked that things will go to hell, but it's a million times worse. Closest thing I could compare it to is what I imagine a heart attack feels like.

I do some deep breathing as it rings.

"Hello?"

I'm both relieved and disappointed Mindy doesn't answer the phone.

"Hey Marcus, it's Dave. I just got your message." I guess that's a lie, I didn't actually get it. But I got the message that there was a message.

"Oh, hey Da-Marco" he says, clearly catching himself mid-name. She must be there. Pulling the receiver back, he shouts "I'm gonna step outside for a minute sweetie. It's work."

I can hear her voice, which immediately soothes my nerves a bit just hearing it third person, gripe "You're a terrible fucking liar Marcus" which is followed by a screen door opening and a wooden door shutting.

"Hey, sorry Dave. You know how she is right now. If she knew we were talking I think she may stop talking to me too."

"I think that may be a lost cause" I find myself laughing, but it's a tense laugh. It matches Marcus' nervous tone.

"Yea, I think you may be right… Shit. Thanks for calling. I lost your cell number so I hoped the one in the phone book was still good."

I guess it's good my dad insisted I keep a landline for "Just in case" then. Marty and I tend to just use this number to put on forms for school and on internet applications so we don't have telemarketers calling our cells. Before now, that's all it's been good for.

Marcus pauses awkwardly and I start to say something when he continues all of a sudden. "Look, before anything else, I gotta ask-"

"No, I'm not back with Katie."

I can hear an audible sigh of relief on the other end. "That's what I keep telling her! The girl is pig headed man" he's yelling/whispering/laughing into the receiver so it crackles a bit. He's also walking around judging by the rustling in the background.

"I'm honestly lost Marcus. I just heard about all of this tonight. I haven't been talking to Katie for more than a few of days, and it's just passive messages. I honestly don't know where this is all coming from."

"I don't have a fucking clue Dave." I never hear him curse. Things must be bad over there. "Last Friday she was chipper and looking forward to spending the weekend with you, Saturday night she's pissed, and Sunday morning she's practically a zombie. Since then it's been a mix of zombie and raging bitch." He never calls his surrogate daughter anything like that.

"Wow, never heard you use that word in reference to her."

"And you wouldn't if there were a nicer term to use. She is dead set on believing that whack job is moving in with you, no offense."

"None taken."

"I don't know why. Everyone and their mother has told her to at least ask you. I even had Jimmy come over for 'poker night' and mention he hadn't heard anything about you moving in with anybody new. She just stomped upstairs and slammed the door without even saying 'Goodnight' to your dad. No clue what to do here man. This is NOT the girl I've raised. I've never seen her so up and down."

Sighing, I drag my fingers through my curly hair. It's greasy. I haven't had the energy to shower in several days. "I don't know either Marcus. I'm sorry about all of this, I do care about Mindy and I want this fixed. I just don't know how."

There's a long pause, silence, and he audibly stops and starts as he struggles with whether to say or not say what he wants to. Finally, he decides to go ahead with it and damn the consequences. "She's talking about going out patrolling on her own. I can't tell if she's serious, but I'm really worried. She's only gone out on her own a few times before, and you remember what happened that last time."

I didn't think that would hurt to hear as much as it does. Whether I want to quit or not, and whether I knew deep down that the amazing super heroine that she is doesn't need me, it still feels like shit when the reality of it sinks in. When I think of her out there without me, a ball of nerves tangles in my legs and it feels like I'm squatting a Buick.

"That one time was an outlier and you know it. She can handle herself Marcus."

"It's not that I don't trust that she's capable, Dave" he chides, his voice dropping to the lowest of whispers when he says my name even though he's outside. "It's how erratic she's behaving. Mindy, you know, has a tendency to get carried away. It's part of why we love her." It really is. She's so spontaneous that it's infectious. "But that type of personality, put into a dangerous situation? I just feel like she needs someone to watch her back."

"She's the best I've ever seen Marcus. I've never seen anyone as skilled at anything as Mindy is at what she does" I assure him. It's true too. "She will be fine." I hate saying that.

"You haven't seen her this past week. You think she's unpredictable normally? These past seven days is a whole new stratosphere! Dave, even Ali had off nights! If James Bond didn't have his head screwed on straight, he'd get knocked into next week! I have seen her these past few days, seen how out of it she is. I promise you she will lose herself in this if she goes out alone. She's already so lost that I worry she won't get out of bed some mornings. How can I trust she won't make a mistake that you won't be there to correct? All it takes is one."

The weight in my legs is getting worse, almost pulling me down on the floor. "I understand Marcus" I sigh, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "Look, why don't you let me know if she goes out? I think I might know where she'd start. If you really want, I can watch her back. I don't think it's necessary though."

"It is" he insists.

"Fine, I want her safe too. But you have to realize that if she ever sees me helping her, there's a high likelihood that she might not talk to either of us ever again. You know that right?"

"That's a risk I'm willing to take if it means she's safe. I'd do anything for her."

I can feel myself sighing inwardly, because I know how he feels. "Me too."


End file.
